Fran in the stars
by d'elfe
Summary: Frances is a young woman whose life became complicated after meeting two FBI special agents in her backyard. A few years later, Mulder, Scully and Frances embark on a new adventure by sneaking into a military base at Cheyenne Mountain. Chaos ensues, of course !
1. Chapter 1 - Winter 2002 - First meeting

**Good morning, or evening dear readers! So this is quite the beginning of Frances' stories. Not the very beginning, of course, because I would have to write on how Frances met Mulder and Scully and how she started being an intern for two years while they worked in Interpol (Lyon, France). Though, this is the story that details how her life entwined with the Stargate program.**

**The timeline of Frances' story can be found on my profile. Don't hesitat****e to go back and forth a little if you need to understand where we are on the timeline. Do not hesitate as well to read the related stories that take place, in other words, such as the Lord Of the rings (now complete), Master and Commander, Batman (not posted yet), Star Wars (not posted yet) and plenty of others in progress. **

**Contrary to my other stories, this will be a series of ficlets, some time just one chapter here and there since it will cover the ten years of the TV series. I will try to make the titles as consistent as possible, and insert the date as well so it is easy to follow.**

**I hope you enjoy this saga! Cheers.**

\- "This is crazy," grumbled Scully as she slid herself behind her companion in the seemingly abandoned concrete tunnel.

\- "There's not much choice if we want to know, right?" stated Mulder, his voice echoing along the cylindrical walls of the pipe as he got further down.

Grumbling some more about the stupidity of their actions, the young woman nonetheless complied and followed his partner down the rusty ladder, lighting her frontal lamp as she was doing so. Tilting her face upwards, it took her a few seconds to accommodate anew through the sunrays to check that Frances was following. As usual, the young lady was being quite silent, observing intently her surroundings. Scully knew that she lost nothing of what was happening, and she always followed closely behind. Right, time to get a run for their money.

\- "If we get caught…"

The rest went unsaid. They had debated for hours about this facility and the weird tip that could lead them into a highly secured military base. They all knew the risks, and even the lone gunmen had obstinately refused to deliver the name of their source. The information was quite scarce as it only stated that the base was used for alien technology and that there was an evacuation shaft hidden in the vegetation of the surrounding forest. The precision of the instructions had, however, been very reliable. How did a quidam get access to this top-secret information?

In the end, curiosity had won the day, and the pushy impatience of Mulder who had somehow been working all his life towards this precise goal. Finding what the government knew about aliens, a step to reclaim his younger sister. Until now Scully had followed albeit with an attitude, and so had Frances. Why turn around now?

The consequences could be terrible for the three of them. Yet, finding an explanation to all the weird occurrences of past years was a reason enough to hold on, even if it was a quest standing on the razor's edge and driven by an anonymous tip more than debatable. As both women shared the same thoughts, Mulder was, for his part, back to his earlier state of excitement. Something was up; his guts told him so. Most of their discoveries until now had been driven by his inner senses, and this time again he would trust his intuition.

Scully's scientific mind had been chosen to ground him on his research, or even better, stop him altogether. If she was admirably playing her part in the process; it didn't have the expected effect. By making their confrontations constructive, Mulder and Scully used it as a drive rather than letting the antagonism stall them. No matter how Cartesian the legist could be, she always ended up following Mulder, even against her reason. Frances, on the other side, was another story. The woman could be awfully practical and reasonable, but most of the time she decided with her inner senses, not with the wheels of her brain. Not that she was unable to do so, for her analytical capacity could be outstanding. Yet, sometimes, the thinking came after. Thus, she would follow when she felt the urge to, and on the contrary refrain Mulder when her guts did not abide with his. Several times already, she had prevented him from jumping headfirst into a fishy situation. A voice of reason uncorrelated to her age.

The well plunged deeply, and the three of them were still following its course in the dark, precariously clinging to the rusty bars as they paid attention to the deep silence that surrounded them, the nothingness only interrupted by the screech of their feet on the ladder. After a few dozens meters, however, Mulder noted that there wasn't so much rust on the metallic ladder. The walls, covered with layers of moss and humidity until then, became a bit lighter. The level of cleaning went increasing, until at last the pipe looked like it had been regularly maintained, leaving a feeling of military tidiness.

\- "I knew it!" he exclaimed.

\- "Shh. Keep going," came Scully's shush.

The team went down, further and further, until Frances felt very constricted in this little shaft. She hated being underground, and tight spaces even more. But there, her feet going from step to step, was not the time to let her claustrophobia take precedence. Inhaling and exhaling slowly, she waved away Scully's concern as the doctor sent her a silent inquiry.

\- "There," murmured Mulder.

His torch was set on the wall, showing a round opening looking curiously alike a submarine airlock. Puzzled, the teams exchanged wary looks.

\- "How the heck are we going to open this?"

Mulder sighed audibly, his torch following the line around the airlock, the metal pressed to the wall and no wheel in sight.

\- "I have no idea"

The answer though, came in an unexpected way, for noises were heard on the other side of the airlock. The screech of cogs unused for too long echoed in the shaft, and Mulder had just a second to fling himself down before the airlock opened fully. Scully and Frances flattened themselves against the ladder, hoping to remain unseen and press their advantage if needed. But it was not to be, for a MP-90 appeared in the gaping hole, as well as a military uniform. A young airman pointed his weapon to the ladies, while a colleague of his checked down the shaft to find Mulder. Frances' heart missed a beat. There was no escape possible.

\- "We're so screwed," she huffed.

\- "Yeah. I bet you are," answered the airman.

The three of them were shoved out of the shaft into a dark room where three more guys awaited them. The air of no nonsense on their face, and their lack of communication skills were enough to unnerve Frances. Obviously, there were not here to entertain their guests. Beside her, Mulder's eyes were scanning the surroundings. Not that there was much to see, but she knew he was checking doors, corridors and people alike, looking for an opening. Frances tried to gather her courage and refrain her body from trembling in fear. The US military could be touchy, and sometimes less than friendly. Would she ever get home? Would she get kicked out of her Interpol program? Cause a diplomatic incident? End up in jail? Scully was silent beside her, but her blue eyes conveyed some reassurance. She knew the wheels of the agency, and the strings to pull to get them out of there. She would figure it out.

The three of them were shuffled into an elevator with so many levels that Frances' mind got dizzy. It answered their previous questions: the military base was huge, much bigger than what could be expected under Cheyenne Mountain. At least, they had discovered something … and been discovered. Damn! How could they be so naïve to think that the escape shaft would not be watched! Damn Mulder for his stubbornness and wishful thinking after escaping the elevator of death, they followed corridors, filled up with people going around in BDUs, the standard military garb. Less than sexy, but very functional.

At last, they came to a long corridor with many doors. The heavy locks were simple enough to spot. Welcome to a military jail. A cold bead of sweat ran between Frances' shoulder blades. If they were interrogated separately, she didn't know how she would handle it. Could they possibly torture them? Threaten each other? The uncertainty was gnawing at her. To her great relief, the three of them were ushered in the same room. The clang of the lock echoed in the tiny space, and Frances collapsed on the nearest bed, her hazel eyes meeting Mulder's. The older man sat beside her, shoulders slumped in defeat.

\- "I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess."

\- "As you should be! I told you, but you wouldn't hear of it. And you know she follows wherever you go."

Scully's anger pooled out of her blue eyes, her fist clenched as she stared at her companion.

\- "It was our chance Scully, our chance to find out. And I think something fishy is going on in this base…"

\- "Mulder ! Don't…. Just don't start again! Even if anything was going on, we're stuck in a jail and will probably lose our job!"

Huffing, the copper-haired doctor crossed her arms protectively, her gaze focusing on the wall, her teeth gritted in frustration. Frances, seated beside Mulder's slumped frame, wrung her hands together. She was used to the banter, and the antagonism. But this anger, this tension she couldn't bear.

\- "If you need to fight, don't do so because of me. I took my own decision, and am responsible for my actions. Please don't drag me into this, the situation is dire enough…"

Dire enough to terrify me. But this remained unsaid, for she had not the courage to admit it. Her stern voice, though, was enough to startle both special agents and shake Scully out of her angered state. Once more, Frances was the voice of reason. It would not do to bicker, it certainly wouldn't bring a solution about.

\- "All right. But this is not over, Mulder."

\- "Fair enough"

A welcome silence followed this statement, and Frances sighed, her brain wracking itself to find an excuse good enough to prevent the US government from suing them. She had no experience of trials in the States, but she knew it to be tedious, and your chances of success highly related to the lawyer that defended you, his own talent correlated to his wages. Perhaps they would grant her to call Charlie? Maybe her own CIA[1] team could get them out of here? It seemed improbable that Kowalsky would grant her any leeway when it came to facing the military but hey, they'd gone against worst odds. Or so Charlie had said! How she longed for his arms right now, just a little time in his warm embrace, her nose stuck in his neck and inhaling his gentle scent. They had not been together for long, but she missed Charlie's crooked smile and endless energy. Too bad he was called back to the States only three months after they had confessed their love for each other. The relationship, long-distance calls and all, was strained. She had been hopeful to see him this summer, after this quick mission with Mulder and Scully. Now, nothing was less certain. Perhaps he would visit her in jail?

The clang of the lock being pulled back shook Frances out of her depressing musings. Beside her, Mulder stood, dragging her behind his tall frame. As useless as it was, the young woman appreciated the effort; her colleague was trying to shield her from view. An airman passed the door, gun at his hip, his face juvenile but an air of 'no nonsense' about him that left no doubt as to his function. He was followed by a bald man with two stars sewn on the shoulder of his short-sleeved shirt. As it was, the general – for that was the reason for the stars – was dwarfed by Mulder's taller stature, blocking Frances' view totally. His voice was low, purposeful as he interrogated Mulder and Scully on the reasons of their presence in a restricted area. Fox kept his mouth shut; a request from his partner so that she could handle the meeting. Her father was a captain in the marines, after all, and she knew how the wheels worked in the military.

Unfortunately, the general was unmovable. No amount of coaxing nor discussing brought them any good. For every request turned down, every question unanswered, Frances felt Mulder stiffen. In the end, he lashed out at the military man.

\- "You cannot prevent us from talking. The people deserve to know what is happening there!"

Scully closed her eyes in defeat. Threatening a general was the last point of her checklist when it came to negotiating with the military. Awaiting for the backfire to sweep them off their feet, she was surprised when the general paused.

\- "You are in no positions to make demands, young man. No phone call, no contact with the external worlds until further notice. You are criminals, and will be treated as such. And you will step aside now"

Mulder blanched, refusing to move. Beside him, the airman seized his gun from the holster.

\- "Mulder !"

Scully's panicked calls fell on deaf hears. Fed up with the stubbornness of her co-worker, she yanked at his sleeve strongly enough to move him. The general started, the lines of his face easing up as he spotted the terrified young woman. Auburn hair falling down her back in a long braid, hazel eyes staring at him, the fear hidden in their depths as she tried to remain neutral. The sight touched him, he that was a father and a grandfather. She was way too young to remain in a cell. He needed to sort this out, and turned on his heels without a word. Would Hathor provide him with a solution? The general shook his head as he treated through the corridor. No, it wouldn't do. He couldn't bother the goddess with such a petty issue.

A tiresome game of waiting started then. The evening passed, they were brought some food, surprisingly edible for a military mess, and no one came to visit. As Frances's watch indicated ten o'clock, there were not closer to finding a solution than they were five hours prior to this. Frustrated, the three agents curled up on their beds, hopelessly staring at the screen of their mobile displaying 'no service'. Doubt gnawed at Frances as she preyed to be out very soon. Her parents would freak out if she couldn't be reached three days in a row. Such a childish though, when all hell could break loose from the importance of their offence regarding US laws. They were utterly and royally screwed !

[1] CIA being Charlie, Ice and Alphonse from the TV series Players.


	2. Chapter 2 - Hathor

**_Hey readers! It's been a while since I last updated this story, I've been swept away by another part of Frances' adventures for a while (See All Hail to the King – King Arthur movie 2004). Now that I've finished writing their main battle, I can get back to this. It seems weird, somehow, to write about the first season of Stargate. But we'll get through the end, eventually. With one shots and short stories, depending on the mood. This being said, thank you to my reviewers who gave me sound advice. I hope you enjoy this first introduction of Frances into this world._**

The sound of shuffling behind the metal door called them all to attention, but instead of the noisy clang of the lock, mere scraping was heard before the door opened fully. Frances was on her feet this very instant, ready to face whatever sentence the general had decided upon. A woman with short blond hair and huge blue eyes burst in, a rifle pointed to them. Behind her, several women, all clad in standard BDUs, were checking the corridor in silence. Mulder, Scully and Frances lifted their hands in surrender, automatically responding to the tense posture of the woman. Then entered a huge man, a golden emblem tattooed on his forehead, his skin dark and eyes an incredible shade of black. Trying very hard not to gape, Frances' attention was called back when the woman locked eyes with Scully.

— "I know this is against regulation but we need backup. The base is overrun by the enemy. Can you use a rifle or a handgun?"

Scully nodded at once.

— "We are FBI. And Interpol"

— "All right. Are you up to fighting under my command?"

Mulder was being ignored, and it didn't sit well with him as he stepped forward.

— "Wait a minute. Is that a test? To see if we are ready to cooperate or mount a rebellion? This whole story sounds fishy. We heard no commotion."

Another voice responded as a small woman stepped forward, her brown hair loose and long enough to indicate she wasn't part of the military crew. Yet, she too bore a rifle.

— "And there will be none, not if we can help it. I'm the doctor here, and I don't want anybody to get hurt."

— "No one will be fighting unless we know what's happening."

Mulder's voice was stern, unmovable. The blond woman sighed, exchanging a significant look with the doctor.

— "All right. A woman by the name of Hathor has used a chemical component to ensnare the men of the base, included General Hammond. She needs to be disposed off without casualties of our own."

Of all of the weird situation Frances had faced with Mulder and Scully, this ranked quite high on the list, especially since Hathor was the name of an Egyptian Goddess. The black man's presence was also unnerving; he wasn't moving a muscle, akin to a mountain blocking the door, his eyes observing them without any emotion on his face. Frances frowned, had the blond woman not mentioned that no man could be trusted?

— "So what about him?" Mulder asked, mirroring Frances' thoughts.

— "He is immune to the pheromones Hathor is using."

— "You mean he is an alien?"

This time, the doctor shared a startled look with her blond companion, who in turn, locked gaze with Scully.

— "This is not the time to address any questions. I'm Captain Carter. Will you fight or not? We're rather short of women."

— "I'm game"

Four startled pairs of eyes turned to Frances as she extended her hands in hope of receiving a gun. Mulder protested, of course, but the captain nodded in thanks.

— "All right. Let's go," added Scully.

— "Hey, what about me?" asked Mulder.

The doctor turned to him, giving him a hearty smile.

— "Sorry sweetheart, but you're a man."

And then, just like this, Frances and Scully cocked the safety of the guns they were granted, while the tall man locked the door in front of a fuming Mulder.

— "We'll be back, Mulder."

The special agent nodded, defeated, as he watched the ladies dive into the endless maze of the SGC. He just hoped with all his heart that the Hathor Goddess wouldn't try to get him, and switched off the light as he lay on his bed. It was the first time of his life that he was begrudged being a man!

After silently running across long corridors and arches, the group of ladies eventually came at a crossroads of sorts.

— "Remember," the doctor said, her small frame dwarfed by the giant man beside her, "No casualties if it can be prevented"

Scully and Frances nodded, copper and mahogany strands bobbing up and down in the process.

— "Captain. What does she look like, this Hathor?" whispered the FBI agent.

— "Another redhead," chuckled the doctor, visibly amused that both of their new recruits had somehow reddish hair.

It was the captain who answered as she surveilled the place.

— "Tall, beautiful, boisterous dress, arrogant, glowing eyes, make-up on her face. You can't miss her"

— "Everything is clear, Captain Carter,' came the tall man's deep voice.

— "All right, let's move again."

The little group progressed in silence, some going left and right to secure the perimeter, wary of the numerous men on base that could become a potential hazard. But there were none in their way, or at least, none left. Perhaps the other ladies had cleared the way. Captain Carter asked Scully and Frances to stick close; she couldn't ask them to roam the base since they didn't know the layout, and would use them as firepower if needed. Fair enough, though Frances as she ran alongside the doctor. Captain Carter knew where to lead them, she didn't hesitate a second as she entered some sort of locker room. Then, she signalled to be silent, and entered behind a partial wall where all could join her. The sound of bubbling water filled the room, as well as moisture and a thick smell Frances couldn't pin point. Carter's eyes widened as she scanned the room, but the young lady couldn't gather what it was, for she was crouched beside her.

A slight shuffling was heard, then the sound of heavy sloshing and the captain retreated beside her, eyes wide. Behind them, a feminine voice echoed in the bathroom.

— "Do not worry child. You will soon receive your Goa'uld. And then you will begin to feel strong again."

More sloshing noises, like someone splashing around the bubble bathtub, and Frances wondered why the blond woman seemed so horrified.

— "The strongest of the larvae will soon find your womb and move into it. At that moment, you will begin your service to us. Enjoy"

A moment passed during which everyone seemed to hold their breath. And then, Carter spoke.

— "Let's get him outta there,' she commanded before turning to them. "You guard the exit"

— "Understood,' answered Scully with a nod.

There were few words exchanged as faint screeches seemed to come up from the bubble bath, but when a tall blond man was laid down on the bench beside them, Frances couldn't help by witness the most gruesome sigh. There was a hole in the man's stomach, and the doctor roamed it with her hand with a disgusted face.

— "No. Nothing went in there yet."

Frances turned to Scully, who sported an abashed look. 'What the hell?' she mouthed to her companion. The young lady shrugged. Evidently, those people had more interesting lives than working deep space radar telemetry. The tall man's voice interrupted her musings as he stated.

— "He no longer has an immune system. Without a Goa'uld larva, he will soon die."

Larva. Ugh! Frances was quite close enough to vomit on the ground, but Scully's face was concerned. The man had just passed out, and the wound on his stomach, a huge X, seemed quite untreatable.

— "Don't you have advanced technology to cure him?" she asked.

The doctor turned to her, her face hopeful.

— "Actually, you're right. The sarcophagus!"

And so, the tall man, called Teal'c, gathered his companion on his broad shoulders and they set off once again in the maze of corridors that was the extensive Cheyenne mountain base. A hundred questions roamed Frances's mind, but she wouldn't heed them until they were safe. For the moment, her brain registered every detail, every out of place event to report it to Mulder. Then, they'd make sense of it all. The goddess was still on the loose; her appearance unknown to her, and they were running from any man on this base. Meaning, 90% of the population. At last, they made it to a great open hangar. A gasp escaped Frances' lips; before her stood a ramp, and at the end of that ramp, throned a great disc of metal at least 6 metres high, with a quadrant and designs on its width that she'd never seen before. Scully, equally baffled, nudged her shoulder slightly to encourage her to close her mouth. And to pay attention to her surroundings. At the base of the ramp, Teal'c set the man down into a huge device – the sarcophagus – richly decorated with gold, and set it into motion. The top doors enclosed the wounded man inside, like a freezer.

— "I have seen the Goa'uld chamber do many miracles,' he said.

And Frances couldn't help but wonder at the ancient manner of speech of this tall man, and the meaning of his gold encrusted tattoo upon his brow. Unfortunately, her quiet moment was interrupted by the opening of the door opposite them. The airmen didn't even warn before they started shooting at them. At once, Frances ducked behind the ramp, the metal railing protecting her. As for Scully, she didn't get as much luck as she landed with her legs partly exposed. Very soon, a bullet had embedded itself in her thigh. Around them, chaos was unleashed. Frances crawled to her friend, grasping her hand to drag her under the ramp as she returned fire. The airmen weren't expecting her shots, and she landed a bullet into an arm, another in a leg before turning to Scully. She feared the femoral artery has been touched, but her partner nodded with a wince, sweat tickling down her brow.

— "I'm all right"

Beside the sarcophagus, the small doctor had been hit, and so had Teal'c when he retrieved her. This was not good, and they were clearly outnumbered as new men poured through the door. But then, as she thought they were going to get heavy fire, a woman entered the room. With her more than sexy and shiny dress, and ridiculous make-up, she could only be Hathor. At the same moment, the sarcophagus opened, and the formerly wounded man sat up, a look of bewilderment on his face.

— "Stop! You will harm our new Jaffa,' Hathor ordered.

And the fire ceased. Frances sighed in relief. She shouldn't have, for the makeshift goddess lifted her hand, glowing embers shining at the centre of her palm. A deflagration of energy hit the device just as the man jumped aside, and it startled crackling all around. Hathor, seemingly unconcerned, turned on her heels and took her goons with her. Horrified, Frances helped Scully on her feet – thank God the woman weighed so little – and started dragging her to the door. The crackling intensified, a spinning noise whistling out of control filling their ears. 'Shit shit shit' Frances hauled Scully up, hurrying like a crazy woman to get out of there before this machine blew them up to hell. Right before them, the blond captain swiped her access card and they tumbled out of the room in haste. The explosion hit them hard, sending them flying across the corridor with a harsh landing. For a moment, Frances saw stars, her back muscles complaining loudly about such a treatment. Beside her, Scully let out a yelp, eyes glazed from the pain.

— "Scully ?"

A groan answered, followed by a thumb up as her head fell on the concrete floor once more. For a while, Frances didn't make heads or tails of the voices around. The great room was opened once more, and she could hear the captain and the colonel converse. Then, the doctor appeared in her line of vision, hobbling with the help of the tall man.

— "You should come to the infirmary" she said.

Frances shook her head, her vision getting clearer.

— "Nope. I'll help with the drama queen. But my partner needs medical attention"

— "Do not fear, we will take care of her" came the man's deep voice.

— "You have my thanks, Teal'c" she answered with reverence.

And the three of them staggered away. For a moment, Frances wondered if she shouldn't come with them, just to ensure Scully's safety. But three people were better than two. She joined the captain and the colonel in the great room, whistling at the damage the sarcophagus had done to the place. If she'd stayed hidden below the ramp, she'd been roasted like a pig.

— "Now what?", was asking the Captain.

— "Now, you and I go for that Goa'uld."

The colonel suddenly turned to Frances, eyeing her suspiciously.

— "And you are?"

It was the captain who answered in her place.

— "A good shot, sir. We could use someone with her skills. Especially since Hathor is guarded by our own men. We can't exactly go in shooting."

The Colonel seemed to ponder Frances' value compared to her youth, until he eventually decided not to decide anything, and walked away. The two women tailed him as he exposed his plan.

— "We can use tranquilliser guns."

As the two air force officers discussed the location of aid weapons, Frances couldn't help but ponder on the situation. And the incredible things she had witnessed. They didn't know how many of the women were left in the base, and Hathor's plans had been foiled. For the moment. At last, they came to the C lock up, and equipped themselves with tranquilliser guns. Its design she wasn't quite used to, a long rifle quite different from her handgun, and the Colonel gave her a few tips regarding its use.

— "Less recoil, more stable. Show me your stance"

The man was intimidating and business like, to say the least. Frances shouldered the gun, and he corrected it slightly, adjusting the position on her shoulder.

— "It will do, let's go."

They made their way back to the locker room, silent footsteps on the concrete floor, only to find that Hathor was less than pleased with the captain. Hiding once more behind the wall, Frances awaited the Colonel's orders.

— "We demand that the woman you call Carter be brought before us so we may gain retribution."

Damn. Her manner of speech was so ancient, a little bit like Teal'c was. Was there any connexion between this goul and the tall man? Another voice rose, a man, compassion laced in his tone.

— "Captain Carter does deserve to be punished, my queen. But she does not know what she is doing. I beg of you to show mercy."

— "She deserves no mercy from us. She will make amends with her death."

A look was exchanged between the two officers, a silent communication born of habits that told Frances they were ready to shoot. At once, they all stood, and the four men guarding the goddess fell.

— "I don't think so" quipped the captain.

But Hathor raised her hand device, and threw the blond woman against the wall where she crumbled in a heap. Beside her, Frances expected the Colonel to fire, but the guy only stood, eyes bulging out, frozen in place. The young woman fidgeted, ducking below the wall to put her rifle down, and take the handgun out. Just as she was about to rise, the woman's voice echoed in the room again. But this time, it held another undertone, as if a second voice had been superimposed upon it. It was low, inhuman, and grated on her nerves so much that she trembled. Dread washed over her, her mind screaming, 'alien, alien!' The colonel, though, was still frozen in place. Was he still feeling the effect of her mind control ? What if he turned against her ? She'd be thoroughly screwed.

— "You have failed us our love. You will not fail us again."

Frances breathed in to calm her racing heart, and stood. The woman's eyes were flashing gold, her hand raised with the strangely glowing machine. Frances knew what it meant; death. The Colonel was on borrowed time. At once, she opened fire. Her first bullet hit true, and the woman staggered backwards into the tub. Another set of bullets started to assault the bath tub; captain Carter had awakened and was emptying her magazine upon the woman. And then, the very water caught fire! The other man hollered, as if in pain, upon seeing the larvas' burning on the ground and trying to escape the inferno. At once, the Captain and the Colonel started moving the unconscious people out of the way, but Frances could only stare as the disgusting shrieking weasels writhing in pain. The man named Daniel seemed enthralled by it, ignoring his colleagues' demands, and so Frances reach for him gently. He didn't resist as she enclosed his hand in hers, pulling at his elbow.

A shadow caught the side of her vision, and the young lady narrowed her eyes. Behind her, Colonel and Captain had retrieved the one named Daniel from her grasp, and she squinted her eyes in the room. Nothing. Spooked, she followed her instincts, and went for the back door. There were wet spots on the floor. Frances ran, following her trail until it led her, again, in the great room. And what she witnessed there made her knees weak. Hathor was there, standing tall and proud as a queen of old. And before her, a horizon of liquid filled the great circle. The waves rippled on its surface like mercury mixed with water, the most incredible sigh she'd ever seen. And that meant a lot, given what they'd stumbled upon with Mulder and Scully. As Hathor stepped on the ramp, Frances realised she meant to go through it. What did it mean, this circle of water ?

Raising her handgun, she fired. Her bullet hit Hathor's shoulder, and the woman turned to her in fury. Another bullet flew, and another, a shrill cry indicating that she'd found her mark. Then Hathor raised her hand, and a wave of heat came towards her so fast that Frances felt she'd hit a wall at full speed. The young woman was projected backwards, and darkness claimed her.


	3. Chapter 3 - Technobabble

**_Hey. This is a short chapter, introducing the concept of Keeper of Time**[1]** that will, in the end, be intertwined with this story. For the moment tough, Frances gets acquainted with the dynamics of Stargate command, and SG1 in particular. Needless to say that O'Neill is less than thrilled about this intrusion in his already complicated life ! But those little one-shots aim to show where Frances can fit in the team._**

After a long sejour in the infirmary, namely two days for both Scully and Frances – a bullet and a concussion – , the problem of what they had witnessed was discussed in the briefing room. There was no way around it, and the three of them signed up nondisclosure papers about what they had seen. Mulder was spooked, of course. He was the only one who had witnessed nothing, and was yet attesting on his life, honour, and all such, that he would never say a word of it. Needless to say that he threw quite the tantrum, until Frances promised to fill him in with all the little juicy details of Hathor and its spawns. Especially the disgusting ones…

The young woman, for her part, didn't mind much. After her first travel as the Keeper of Time, and the secrecy it entailed, she was quite used to keeping the information for herself. Nor Mulder, nor Scully, nor her family, nor even her closest friend knew about her magical travels. Why not add a stargate to the list? And the SGC personel had treated her well, something to do with her saving the Colonel's life in the locker room, apparently. The man himself, though, was still a bit callous with her and her teammates. His involvement as future prime Jaffa of Hathor had probably shamed it thoroughly.

Of course, what Frances and Scully had seen opened another world of possibilities. At last, Mulder had found the aliens. A proof that they existed, and interacted with earth. A proof that the government knew of it, for some time now. Perhaps a way to get his sister back. He had to wrap his head around the fact that this great conspiracy enclosed some pretty good people in its midst. No one had died, this time, but he was quite adamant that many of the SGC personal put their lifes on the line everyday. And he wondered, for two days and nights as his companions rested in the infirmary, if he should stop running after ghosts, and enrol in the program altogether. Scully, for her part, didn't seem so motivated to shed her legist background aside. Aliens and such were not her cup of tea. Especially now, as she was picking samples from the floor to help the doctor – Janet – with her research.

Beside her, Frances watched the proceedings, sitting on the bench with Mulder, whispering about the scene they'd witnessed in this very same spot. His disgusted face told her exactly which part of the tale she was recounting; he could picture quite easily the doctor's hand roaming the insides of the Colonel, looking for a larva in the pouch. As Scully capped another one, Doctor Jackson' sheepish voice startled them all.

— "Half of the DNA is probably mine."

— "Eeeeew," came Frances' disgusted voice. De la confiture donnée aux cochons[2]"

Doctor Jackson cocked his head aside, considering the young lady. She wondered if, by chance, the man spoke French. The Colonel, though, didn't as he turned to her.

— "I beg your pardon?"

Frances smiled sweetly, her playful side resurfacing.

— "Well, you have to admit that Hathor has good taste. Dr Jackson for a mate, you as prime Jaffa…"

O'Neill blanched slightly at the reminder of the fate that had almost befallen him, while a red hue coloured Dr Jackson's cheek. Obviously, he'd caught her meaning. Scully scoffed. Trust Frances to put everyone off balance with her quick wit. The Colonel, though, seemed to be in the mood for a sparring match. The legist smiled. This was going to be interesting.

— "I'm going to ask this again, obviously. But you are?"

— "Er, Interpol liaison for the FBI?"

— "And you're here because?"

This time, France openly laughed, cocking her eyebrow up in her signature expression.

— "Suspicion of alien activity"

— "Found anything interesting ?"

— "What do you think ?", she quipped back.

A smirk adorned the Colonel's face as he turned to the General.

— "Can I keep her?", he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

The bald man seemed to consider the question a moment, as if his second in command had not been jesting. Eventually, he told him very seriously.

— "Yes, for the summer. Her first trip to the gate will be your responsibility."

— "What ‼?"

It has been a long drive back from Washington to Colorado Springs, a day and a half on the road when Mulder and Frances both had taken the wheel. The young woman had been surprised how fast it had all been sorted out. Mulder's resignation, Scully's refusal to follow – albeit she'd join them for the first gate trip – , and him packing his stuff to move to Colorado Springs. They'd said their goodbyes to Agent Dana Scully, who, weirdly enough, had decided to take over the X-Files. Frances wondered, once more, how far Mulder and Scully's relationship had progressed this past year, and how bittersweet their parting. For her part, she had been busy spending some time with Charlie in New York, her boyfriend, whom she had not seen ever since his departure from Interpol last September. Three quarters of her time with him had been spend hunting a man around, and elaborating a cover story to force the man to confess his crimes. Not the best moment of her life. Needless to say that the romantic escapade she'd been yearning for, after those months of separation, had been ditched. Regardless of the situation, she'd been glad to hold Charlie in her arms, and kiss him senseless.

— "How did it go?" asked Mulder, fatigue etched upon his features.

— "Good enough"

Mulder lifted an eyebrow.

— "Good enough?"

Frances shrugged, and the FBI investigator eyed her suspiciously. The young woman had picked up many things as she worked with them, namely how to shield her emotions from prying eyes. Her mask was becoming so practised that even he, one of his closest friends, had a hard time passing through. But her eyes betrayed her still.

— "I would have expected 'swell', or fantastic, or any of those hyper-expression the youth use nowadays. Good enough is not good enough, if you catch my drift"

— "First of all, I'm not a 'youth' anymore. Not after … well, you know. I've aged a little with those investigations of yours"

Mulder's shoulders slumped slightly. There were moments when he was glad he'd accepted her as an intern; she'd been a great addition to their team. Sometimes, though, he regretted having tampered with the innocence of her young years. Yes, she'd seen much. But she didn't resent him for that; never blamed him.

— "And the rest?"

— "Uh?"

— "You've been trying to steer me away from the subject. It didn't work,' he deadpanned.

Frances smiled. Those defense mechanisms, taught by the best, namely him and the Interpol psychologist, were embedded in her now. Especially since she couldn't possibly detail her adventures to neither friends nor family. Frances knew how to dodge questions now, even better since she'd taken her first travel as the Keeper of Time. But this, Mulder had no idea about.

— "I don't know. Long-distance relationships are difficult. It seems like we've grown apart, like they have reverted[3] to their group dynamic now that I'm not regularly interacting with them"

— "Can't be everywhere at the same time", said Mulder, his eyes strained on the road.

— "Yeah. I have to accept that I'm not here anymore. Anyway. Charlie was stressed out, I'd say as usual, but he'd managed to calm down a notch when in France."

Mulder roamed his memory, reminiscing about the time in Interpol where the two teams would share coffea and stories in the office's cafeteria with Frances and Charlie.

— "I remember as well that he seemed more content while you were around."

— "Maybe it's just a bad moment for them, you know? But I missed him so much this past year, and I wonder if…"

— "If he did as well?"

Frances nodded, sipping into her cup of hot chocolate – hot chocolate! a kid's drink! – as her eyes roamed the countryside to avoid meeting his. There was not much he could do to help her; this was a problem she'd have to sort on her own.

Their long drive ended at Cheyenne Mountain's base the next day, Mulder's car filled up with things they hauled off the trunk to set in his new room. He didn't have so much for the moment; the accommodation was temporary. Frances, on her side, only had a suitcase and a backpack. As they trudged along the corridor towards their rooms, a terrified mewl echoed from a door nearby. Another yowl and an airman retreating hastily had Frances quirking an eyebrow.

— "Stupid beast!" yelled the soldier. "Nicked my hand!"

Mulder exchanged a meaningful glance with Frances, stopping the man to have a look at his hand.

— "Alien cat?" he asked.

Frances pursed her lips to prevent from laughing.

— "No, earth one. And in a bad mood!"

As the airman went on his way with a huff, Frances smiled.

— "I'll go. I love cats, and it usually goes both ways."

— "Yeah. Well, I don't, so I'll … uh, drag your suitcase to your room."

Her laugh echoed in the wall at Mulder's heartfelt retreat. He truly had a bad history with cats, and she wondered how such a big, loving guy could not get along the furry beasties. Then she entered the storage room, and switched the light off to give the cat some semblance of privacy. Another yowl made her stop in her tracks. The cat, a rusty-coloured beast, eyed her suspiciously. Frances crouched, offering her hand with very careful moves, and waited. The cat retreated at first, until the young woman started speaking very gently.

— "Come on, kitty. I'm not going to hurt you."

It took a lit of coaxing, and a ton of patience for the cat to eventually come and sniff her hand. He'd really been spooked by something beforehand, and was not ready to relax. Frances didn't mind; she was tired, and was quite comfortable sitting on the ground. Her hand extended, perfectly still, she waited until the cat was confident enough. Eventually, the rusty animal rubbed his cheeks over her hands, making her his before it settled in her lap. Frances' hands gently caressed his fur, soothing moves that elicited a purr that she reproduced playfully. Soon, both cat and lady were purring in unison as they shared a private moment in the base's storage room. Truth be told, Frances hated enclosed spaces, and was feeling nervous to stay such a long time – the remainder of summer – in the SGC. The cat's welcome was exactly what she needed to be a little more at ease.

At last, Frances decided to emerge from the storage room to find to whomever the cat belonged to. Her surprise only notched when, reaching the level where Daniel Jackson's office was, she found the base in such a turmoil that she wondered if there wasn't an alien invasion. It wasn't so far from the truth as an airman informed her that an entire city was currently hosted in the lower levels, refugees from a dying planet. They called themselves the Tollan. The cat tensed in her arms at the ruckus, and she decided to hit the mess. After a few – too many – wrong turns, Frances eventually made it to the horrible canteen. Not that the food was so terrible, compared to the US standard, but being French she rather had a difficult palate to satisfy. Not hormones beef for her, thank you very much, but summer meant fresh salad and tomatoes from her father's garden, and Mediterranean food from local and organic producers. Yeah. She knew she was being stubborn yet…

— "Schrödinger! Thank God you found him!"

Turning around, France was met with a very relieved Captain Carter. By her side, a tall man, with a kind face and a mop of dark hair, sent her a small smile. The blond woman extended her arms to get the cat back, and Frances reluctantly let go. The huge animal had been an anchor in the ant's hill that was the SGC.

— "Hello, Captain Carter"

— "Hello, Frances. This is Narim, from the Tollan"

— "Enchantée, Narim. It is nice to meet you. Is the cat yours?"

An inquisitive look was exchanged between Carter and Narim, resulting in an affirmative answer. But the eyes of the Tollan man lingered on her hair for a while.

— "Ask away," said Frances, never one to sidestep weird questions.

Narim seemed taken aback, and stayed silent for a while. Until he relented.

— "I merely wondered how extraordinary it was that the colour of your hair nearly matches Schrödinger's fur. He's probably seen a fellow in you"

A laugh caused them all to turn around as Jack O'Neill walked into the mess, Dr Jackson and Teal'c on his heels.

— "Neat, isn't it? It's so we don't lose her from sight in the field," he added, pointing to her hair.

Narim cocked his head aside, a genuine streak of curiosity marring his eyes. The man seemed to be a real softie, built like a brick wall yet gentle.

— "Really?" he said.

And very, very gullible. Frances frowned. Trust the Colonel to work his acidic humour on credulous aliens, especially since she knew him to be less than thrilled that he would have to babysit her on her first travel through the Stargate. His brown eyes sparkled, but she could discern the underlying threat behind the joke.

— "No. We don't dye people, even if sometimes, it would make things much easier."

His dark eyes shifted to Daniel Jackson, who swatted him on the arm. Frances watched the smirk flowering on O'Neill's lips before she sent an apologetic glance to Narim. Once she was sure he'd got her meaning, she extended her hand to the newly arrived group.

— "Hello Colonel. Doctor. Teal'c"

Jack's handshake was firm, while Dr Jackson's was considerably softer.

— "Please, Daniel is sufficient."

Teal'c ignored her outstretched hand altogether, bowing his head instead. Frances returned the gesture with respect before turning to the Tollan.

— "As for the hair colour, Narim, it comes from plants people use in the Arabic countries to dye and protect one's hair."

— "So it's not natural! Damn, you cheater," came Jack's retort.

No it wasn't. And the initial hennea had not been of her choice either, but she couldn't possibly tell them that she'd been a slave in ancient Rome, and made into a circus persona for the sake of her owner's fame, did she? The red hair had made her recognizable, earning the nickname of Coliseum's witch. Fantastic. She'd kept the colour though, as a marker of being the Keeper of Time. Her most guarded secret now, even more than the stargate program, for no one knew about it. No one alive at least. Spooked, Frances ignored The Colonel's attitude entirely and turned to Samantha Carter with a snort.

— "You know, given the name of the cat, you could have posted a flew flyers. 'Lost Schrödinger, wanted dead or alive.""

Carter and Daniel burst out laughing, before making their way to the food stall. As Narim frowned about the mention of his precious cat being killed, Carter hiccupped merrily to explain the concept of Schrödinger's cat. Behind them, a spooked colonel turned to Teal'c in the line.

— "Do you feel left off, sometimes?"

— "Indeed," came the deep rumbling voice of the tall Jaffa.

— "How come a girl that age can make a joke like that ?"

— "Depends on her studies, sir. I'll explain"

O'Neill turned his sharp gaze to his second in command.

— "No offence, Carter, but I'm not sure I want to."

Before she could retort, Frances forcefully retreated in the line to address the Colonel.

— "It's a simple concept, Colonel. Schrödinger's cat is a way to introduce probabilities in Quantum physics. Given that the observer couldn't see the cat, locked in a box, there was no way to know he if he was alive or dead. Hence the need for probabilities"

Narim, the Tollan, seemed quite nonplussed by this experiment.

— "That is…"

There were many words in his head. Horrible, sickening, inhuman. But O'Neill beat him to it.

— "Curiously understandable. But what if the cat mewls ?"

— "Then you know he's alive", she quipped. "And your experiment is crappy"

— "You're good at vulgarisation, Frances," came Daniel's comment from afar. "I've never seen Jack pick up a concept so fast."

— "That's because he doesn't have to handle a wave function."

Daniel Jackson nodded.

— "Me neither. Science for dummies, uh?"

— "Hey, I resent that," came Jack's retort.

As Frances' laugh at the banter between the two men, she turned to Narim with a more serious face.

— "Do not worry, Narim. It is a theoretical demonstration. We, humans, needs images to understand those far-fetched concepts. It never happened; your cat is safe."

His quiet voice attempted a joke.

— "Until he gets lost once more."

— "It is the nature of cats to wander. Once you accept that you belong to them, and not the other way around, you can get along fine."

The Tollan inclined his head to hers in thanks. This put his mind to rest. At least, until O'Neill's antics chafed on his nerves once more. He wondered how the sweet Samantha could bear his narrow-minded mind.

* * *

[1] See the Keeper of Time's story. In short, and if you don't want to wander that way, Frances had been gifted a necklace that sends her, without warnings, back into time to fix the little mishaps of history. Her very first mission was into Ancient Roma (movie Gladiator) where she met Maximus, fought beside him, and miraculously survived.

[2] Jam given to pigs, a French saying meaning that you shouldn't give something too nice to horrible people

[3] Charlie, Ice and Alphonse, from the TV series players


	4. Chapter 4 - Tourism

**_Hey there, here we go, passing through the Stargate. I've just corrected and edited this chapter, albeit it still is a little oldish style wise. Pretty hectic life at the moment, but I'm trying to keep this story going. Some parts have been written 10 years ago, so I'm actually dusting it to make a consistent thread. I hope you'll enjoy. And you might probably recognise the episode it's hinting at at the end of this chapter. As usual, reviews feed my muse ! I'm not so sure how I'll handle what comes next so, a little encouragement is always welcome. Cheers_**

As the last chevron locked, lighting the seventh red light on the top of the ring, a great whoosh numbed all her senses and a blur of blueish liquid and white foam came rushing to them at great speed. Standing right aside the colonel, who had seemed less than happy to baby sit them, Frances grit her teeth but stood her ground. If he had not moved an inch, then she would not either, and she ignored the furious cascade that threatened to obliterate her. All her muscles tensed, and for a second her eyes closed by themselves, unable to sustain the strain of this glittering light. Paralysed in fear, Frances forced the adrenaline rush down, unable to do anything but block her body from leaping backwards. And then, in an instant it was gone. The crazy explosion had been sucked inside the limits of the ring, as if pulled back by an incredible force.

The threat eliminated, Frances started to regain her senses. A quick peek at her companions showed that none of the SG1 team members had moved, but the looks on her friend's faces gave away their surprise. Her eyes were probably as wide as theirs, but when she averted her gaze to the grumpy colonel she was surprised to see that his features were not as hard as they had been an instant before. It would probably be long and painful to gain some respect from the team leader, but the young lady was resolved to do her best. Something in her had stirred at the discover of this brand new world, and she knew that somehow she had a part to play in this. Sweeping her gaze over the team, she could see that the warrior Teal'c was already setting off, followed closely by the blonde woman and Mulder and Scully clad in BDUs. However, Daniel Jackson paused for a second, and for a brief instant their eyes met. His were blue like the ocean, and his calm features soothed her as he smiled, the genuine expression warming her up to the core, a nice change from O'Neill's disapproval and wariness.

\- "Daniel…", ground the colonel in warning

How funny was it that the only smile he had received from now came from a historian whose name matched her father's? Obeying the silent order, the archeologist started climbing the ramp and disappeared across the shining surface. It was an impressive sight to behold, this giant pool of liquid quicksilver dancing back and forth like waves in the tide. Little did she know that the oscillating phenomenon was an exact reproduction of the earth sea tides, except that this one was ruled by electromagnetic fields and matter flows. Instinctively reaching for the surface and realising that she felt absolutely nothing, Frances turned an inquisitive face to the colonel, who suddenly gave her a crooked grin.

Then he shoved her onward. As she disappeared inside the ring, Frances nearly screamed, but she realised that she couldn't. Falling inside an endless well of darkness, it felt like her body would be pulled apart. It was like a free fall with a crazy acceleration rate, except that no equilibrium could be reached. An unknown cosmic wind screamed in her ears, threatening to break her eardrums and burst her brain apart such was the noise. Surrendering the consciousness of her own body, the young recruit lost track of time.

Suddenly coldness descended upon her like a wave of liquid azote and for a moment she felt like she would break into pieces. Then the word stopped spinning around and Frances came back to reality. However, instead of setting foot on solid ground, her totally confused senses could not match the flat surface with a horizontal floor. Landing quite harshly on her butt, Frances barely managed not to slide down the stairs like Mulder obviously had, stopping herself with her left arm and banging it against hard rock in the process.

\- "Ouch," she hissed

The pain was soon the last of her issues when a wave of dizziness overwhelmed her, in company of a nice taste of nausea.

\- "Watch the stairs," said a voice that she knew to be O'Neill's, a sarcastic tone indicating his amusement at their debacle.

If she had not felt so bad, Frances might have laughed at Mulder's weird crouched position across the offending steps. Somewhere, somebody was trying hard not to vomit; Scully. Concentrating on a line of the stairs, Frances finally managed to stabilise her sight. A sweep of grassy area greeted her, as well as an outstretched. Dizzy, she stared at the long feminine fingers before Captain Carter hauled her on her feet. Samantha felt quite sorry for the girl; O'Neill was definitely pissed for this stupid mission and didn't refrain from saying so. They were not a freaking travel agency for God's sake, had retorted the colonel to General Hammond, but still this one had said that a promise was a promise.

\- "It's quite normal to feel sick the first time," said Carter as she released the girl's hand as she was regaining her balance.

\- "Oh right…" Frances answered. "After all I've just been dematerialised and reassembled a thousand light years from there so why not…"

The little cynical line didn't escape the colonel's attention, and Frances swore she saw the great warrior Teal'c lift an eyebrow at this comment. What she missed though was the hopeful gaze of the second in command to her superior, happy that she was to have found a fellow scientist.

\- "I have to admit it's quite off-putting," said Mulder, now standing down the stairs.

\- "Ah!" said O'Neill, "a sane man!"

Scully, who was now regaining her senses after vomiting her lot, gave him such a thoughtful look that Frances could have rolled out with laughter. Mulder, a sane man!

\- "Good one," Frances quipped.

As if on cue, Mulder turned to Scully with enthusiasm:

\- "But it's so incredibly exciting, it's so much more than anything we expected! We're on another planet Scully!"

\- "Right…", exhaled the colonel, this time looking defeated. "Now that our three little daisies are up and running why don't we start exploring?"

\- "Yes sir"

The Captain's tone of voice meant business; friendly banter was over.

\- "Remember what we said," started the colonel, his dark eyes turning to them. "You stay within the group, you do not sway an inch from the line, and you obey without questions to anything I say or else you're getting straight back home. Is that clear?"

\- "Yes colonel, "answered Scully.

The FBI agent addressed a warning look to her partner; Mulder never took well to authority, and she hoped he would be able to refrain from goading the Colonel. Said Colonel eyed them suspiciously, but pursed his lips instead of commenting.

\- "Let's move, folks."

His dark eyes swept around the landscape, looking for their last wayward member who had already been led astray by some markings on a rock nearby.

\- "Daaaannnniiiiieeeel," he called, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

\- "Mmm?"

The archeologist failed to remove his eyes from the artifact that had attracted his attention

\- "We're moving."

\- "But…"

\- "No buts," he cut sharply, "come on…"

The younger man sighed, and came back to them while throwing a look of longing backwards. Frances' eyebrow quirked up as she walked. The dynamic between the two men was intriguing. It was already the second time that the colonel scolded the archeologist, and none too gently, showing that the doctor was getting on the older man's nerves. However, the commanding officer's look and softening features indicated otherwise, like if there was a silent affection that pushed him to watch over the younger man's safety. That was such a mother hen like behaviour and Frances wondered what they could have shared to come to such a weird relationship.

\- "What did the MALP say?" suddenly asked the colonel to his second in command

\- "It indicated trees and no signs of life, sir."

The colonel sighed dramatically.

\- "Trees, again"

\- "No aliens?" questioned Mulder, a look of disappointment crossing over his features.

Captain Carter turned to him.

\- "Nope, and believe me or not, most of the time it's much better this way. Some of them are slightly irritable."

Daniel snorted at this, but most of the team kept silent. None of the three visitors had received an extensive briefing on what they could find on the other side of the stargate. The aim of this mission was to introduce them to the Stargate program to see whether Mulder's intention to enrol stayed true, and the planet had been chosen on purpose without life or obvious civilisation.

\- "Who built the stairs then?" asked Frances, a bit curious as why a lifeless planet would be granted with such an edifice.

\- "That's a very good question," granted the archeologist, turning to her in approbation. "This would probably be the same people who built the network of gates and left the marking on this rock over there, but we don't know yet who…"

\- "Daniel!," ground out the colonel.

\- "Or right," he said absently, "sorry about that…"

Frances huffed, spooked that suck knowledge would be kept from her. Everything in due time, she needed to be patient. Taking a deep breath, she turned to the Colonel.

\- "So does this mean I have exhausted my quota of questions."

\- "Yes, yes, yes!, No more questions and much more silence. Let's go!"

As the little group started walking, the archeologist made a little face, his mouth getting a bit tight from the rebuke. Fuming inside, Daniel understood the necessity to stop talking even if he was frustrated to be deprived of such a life-changing explanation. The three members of the new company seemed more than interested in what he had to say, and once more he ended up shutting information because of national security. After all, being an archeologist aimed at discovering secrets about civilisations and sharing them with the world. Where was the fun when you could not even discuss it with anybody else?

The little group went by, covering quite some distance but never going too far from the gate. At the sound of Mulder's questions and Scully's assumptions about the ecosystem, time went swiftly. They collected samples from the ground, found a few traces of insects and microscopic life, and soon the three doctors were discussing the similarities and differences between earth and P3X yada yada whatever the number was. The funniest in this was that apart from Scully, none of the two members of SG1 had a remote idea of biological systems, but the less they knew the most eager they seemed to theorise about it. Mulder, after a while, got tired of asking questions about intelligent alien life, especially because he got no answers. Soon enough he fell back to Frances' position and they kept each other company in silence. The feared to exchange information about Mulder's sister's abduction in front of the team, but there was no doubt about what was going on in her friend's head. A few explicit looks had confirmed it as she was also trying to pull the pieces of the puzzle together. In her mind, it made no doubt that Mulder would continue digging into the program, having found the most likely place to find an explanation regarding the drama of his childhood. How he would manage to extract the information from this tight government organisation was another story, but she trusted him for this. If there was something that her companion did not lack it was sheer determination. Maybe that enrolling was the solution, especially after five years of fruitless research through non-classified cases.

O'Neill, standing up a hill in the shadow of the great trees, was getting annoyed. It was quite time to shake the scientific conference that was now happening around a sample of soil. The Scully woman was as prone to debating as Carter, albeit with a little more sense, and a very grounded attitude. He could see she was a woman who needed proofs. Her companion, at last, had finally stopped asking questions, and the colonel was quite glad because they were far from being stupid. Several times he had had to restrain Daniel from blurting out everything they knew to answer the man's curiosity. Now, however, the man's thoughtful gaze and absent manners were not so reassuring. He and the mere slip of a girl seemed to have silently debated of something, and now that he was lost in his thoughts, she was the one watching the surroundings. Jack had to admit that she played the part quite well. She had turned around a few times and chosen a strategic position. The kid was young, but the Interpol training had done some good.

Suddenly a great whoosh echoed in the forest, freezing them in their positions as they shared startled looks. Frances's head snapped in the direction of the incoming noise, but if she had recognised the sound of the gate opening she could not understand the ones that came next. A deafening hissing screeched into their untrained ears and the three new members made a face at the offending loudness. Three times it happened, and then the hissing became a whistle as the sound seemed to be led away. It seemed like missiles had just passed them, but Teal'c's voice indicated otherwise as the huge warrior came charging back to them.

\- "O'Neill," he stated calmly. "Death gliders"

The colonel rolled his eyes.

\- "Right, as if this day couldn't get better… Come on people, remember what I said in case of emergency, we're outta here!"

Quickly, bags of samples disappeared into the scientist's pockets as SG1 and their guests formed a packed group. Frances was handed an automatic hand gun and she removed the safety at once, earning a nod from the blond second in command in the process.

\- "They're coming back," said Teal'c, his voice dropping.

\- "Can you shoot them down?,"

The warrior shook his head.

\- "Not all of them before they descend upon us."

Frances raised an eyebrow at this, wondering how the staff in his hands worked, and how exactly it could bring down flying things. There was not much information shared, so her intuition was her best shot at trying to understand the situation. Luckily, this had never made her default. A quick look at Mulder indicated that true answers were needed.

\- "What are those death gliders?"

\- "That'd be the F-22 equivalent" stated the archeologist, his voice surprisingly calm given the situation.

Scully cocked her head to the side, her ears picking up the sound of returning vessels.

\- "You don't seem too worried. Friends or foes?"

The archaeologist shrugged.

\- "Oh, foes, no doubt about that. Just another day in the office"

Frances gaped openly this time, stunned by the blasé attitude. But before the discussion could get further, the colonel turned to them.

\- "We'll make a run to the gate once we're out in the open. Wait for my signal. Teal'c, Sam you'll make sure those two are all right," he said while pointing at Mulder and Scully. "I'll keep an eye on the kid," he continued, earning a raised eyebrow from said child who refrained from huffing at the appellation. "Daniel, we'll cover for you, you type the address in. Got it?"

\- "Yes sir," answered her second in command, echoing the thought of the group's nodding heads.

\- "Let's go"

Turning into full GI Joe mode, the colonel gave way to the tall black warrior, who pushed the archeologist forward. Then Samantha followed, keeping in step with Mulder and Scully who soon were running through the forest. As Frances and the colonel took off at full speed, she fuming to be considered as the weakest, the hissing of the death gliders came pounding back. Adrenaline pumped into Frances' vein, pushing her faster through the woods. A large shadow passed quickly over the group's head, followed by the deafening noise of air being ripped apart at great speed.

Wondering what those machines looked like, Frances was tempted to tilt her head up, but she was already having a hard time not tripping over branches and trunks. Eventually, she managed to catch a glimpse of the glider; at once, her eyes widened in horror. Two rows of energy fireballs had just been fired on them, and the woofing noise just preceded the loud crash of the branches torn apart by the blasts. Without warning, O'Neill seized her BDU's sleeve and violently pulled her aside, accommodating her loss of equilibrium by shoving her against himself without stopping the run.

The shining yellow energy balls landed close, blasting apart every living thing within a few metres radius and creating a shockwave that sent pieces of shards and soil everywhere around. Somebody screamed, a female voice it seemed, but Frances' ears were ringing far too much to distinguish who it was. Wishing with all her heart that there had been no casualties among them, the young lady tried to get a proper view of the chaos occurring right before her eyes. The mad run was mobilising all the energy she could gather such the disorientation and noise numbed her senses, and the explosions were still raining upon them like the fires of a godly wrath. Suddenly it ceased, and thick smoke greeted them as they ran. Silence descended on the scene like a cold blanket of numbness.

The loud hissing of the gliders had retreated, but there was no doubt that they would come back. The only interrogation left was when, and a quick glance at the colonel indicated that he would not suffer any break in the pace he now imprinted upon the group. Sunshine eventually pierced the smoke screen, sending a yellowish light to the destroyed forest floor. Soon enough the little group was kneeling on the very edge of the trees, and SG1 members exchanged a few quick glances before hurrying their guest to their feet.

\- "Go," ordered the colonel.

Frances watched with horror the death gliders' graceful movement as they flew back around.

\- "They're coming straight at us," whispered Scully.

O'Neill refrained the temptation to roll his eyes as he shoved the little group onwards. Stupid freaking mission, being out in the open chased by Goa'uld ships and untrained newbies, just what he needed. The little one beside him was speeding off on the uneven ground, watching carefully where to put her next step so as not to spray an ankle. She seemed quite used to the outdoors by the way she leapt through rocks and holes without slowing down, and the colonel noted this with approbation. Daniel had also performed one of his best four hundred metres ever since he was already typing in the address. The two guests were quite far behind him, and Teal'c was already posted to meet the death gliders with his staff.

Unfortunately, said war ships were coming too fast for his taste, and there was not so much that could be done about it except expect heavy fire. No shelter could be used in the extensive field of grass, and when the ships came close the FBI agents got only a short instant to catch a glimpse of their form before the deadly machines fired again. During this small window of opportunity, the tall man's eyes went wide, his brain already frying from the sight of the two profiled ships gliding in the distance as if they weighed nothing. His two companions, mouth wide open from the implications of such existing machines, were shaken by their respective guardians as the gate went wooshing behind them, startling them with the now familiar noise.

Teal'c choose this instant to return fire, his staff springing to life as it sputtered a blast of energy that landed on the first glider. The hit as enough to destabilise its pilot, and the vessel titled to the right. The second one, though, was intend on having their asses.

\- "Go!" yelled the colonel, putting the group back into motion at the very moment the ships started firing again.

Fortunately, the team leader's strategy of dividing the group made the shots more difficult to perform, and if the ship's pilots were flying virtuosos their aim wasn't so adjusted. Daniel had already jumped in when Mulder and Scully were shoved into the wormhole by Teal'c. Avoiding some blasts hitting not far from the base of the stairs, the warrior followed as Sam started firing her machine gun to cover the two remaining members. It was then that hell broke loose. The loud hissing of the last incoming ship was now filling the air as much as the explosions' noise, and Frances ran numbly beside the colonel, her equilibrium screwed up by the surrounding chaos. A well-aimed blast struck so close that she thought her eardrums would burst, and both people were violently projected forward.

Literally flying, Frances landed harshly on the stairs of the gate, pain shooting up her left arm and elbow as she accommodated the shock. Through heavy smoke came a yell of pain, but she could see nothing. Stumbling to her feet as another fire blast was shot, the young woman wanted nothing more than listen to her senses and jump through the shining liquid. The absence of the colonel behind her, though, made her pause. Did the colonel and his second need help? She couldn't, in all conscience, leave them behind. The panic, though, was difficult to control. A new energy blast came her way, and Frances knew well that that it could be her last. Still, she would not forgive herself if something happened because of their wish to go through the gate. During what seemed eternity the young lady scrutinised the smoke as in reality is lasted less than a second. A blast landed close, making her jump out of her skin, and Frances very nearly gave way to her the screaming voice telling her to flee. The glider passed once more above her head, tearing her ears apart but speeding away; it would have to turn around before coming at them again.

Frances closed her fist, ready to spring down the steps now that she had a few seconds before the next round when two familiar figures emerged from the thick smoke. The colonel was leaning heavily on his second-in-command, his right leg stiff behind him as he struggled. Sweating profusely, his face was twisted in pain as he dragged himself forward as fast as humanly possible.

\- "Go! Go!" he was yelling.

The blasts started again, coming closer as the hissing of the death glider intensified. Across the panic and confusion of the battle a tingling feeling washed over Frances, a sense of urgency that she had already felt before. It was now or never, and the young lady reacted instinctively. Reaching for the colonel's free arm, Frances grabbed him and pulled with all the strength she could muster. Dragged forward, the team leader grunted in pain, but followed the movement, his second in command adjusting her grip. Frances pulled the older man over, her eyes wide open staring at the brightness of the yellowish light coming behind them. And then the three of them were falling through the gate, disappearing into the wormhole as their bodies were disintegrated on the spot. The blast hit the very same location where they had been standing but an instant before.


	5. Chapter 5 - Frozen

**_Hello to all my readers. I'm sorry, no SG team to lead for Frances aha. Sorry, couldn't help the cynicism. So here they are, stuck in the ice, and quite worse for wear. I hope you will appreciate the bonding that I have tried to convey by choosing this episode. Typical Murphy's law. What can go wrong will go wrong. _**

After passing through chaos and fire, the intense coldness creeping through every cell of her body was nearly welcomed. The horrible screeching resonated inside her mind, this time less overwhelming than the first, and Frances surrendered her senses as her matter flew through the immensity of space. Expecting a difficult landing given, they'd jumped head first, Frances was nonetheless surprised by the intensity of the harsh welcome home. The wormhole was unstable, its matter seizing as white strings of energy surrounded its frame, and it literally spat the three occupants with an unusual amount of anger.

Frances was projected a few feet away from the actual gate, tumbling over on a bone-breaking surface. A hiss escaped her lips at the pain that shot through her body, leaving her stunned. Half a second later, the colonel landed directly on her left side, elbowing her in the ribs rather harshly. His painful cry echoed oddly in the place, accompanying the young lady's own protest and Sam's sharp muffled sound as she too was projected on the little group, face first.

Intense waves of pain seized her left arm, coming from the bruised elbow which had once more accommodated the fall, and the ribs fared no better from the colonel's unintentional blow. Frances's senses were going haywire, her eyes only seeing a white blur as her ears picked up the final whoosh of the closing gate. All her nervous system was concentrated on the harsh pain, and for a moment she stayed on the ground, stunned. A black veil threatened to take control of her, and she was starting to feel a little light headed. An intense feeling of coldness was now sweeping through her back, and darkness claimed her.

When Frances retrieved her bearings, hushed voices echoed around her. The first thing she noted was the intense cold as she struggled to open her eyes. Then the pain came rushing back, and she closed her eyes tightly to prevent from whimpering. Where were the strong lights from the infirmary? Had anybody retrieved the wounded Colonel? The silence, only interrupted by the whispers, was deafening, as if they were the only ones in the world. And this cold, creeping into her bones, as icy as the clutches of death.

— "How's the little lady?"

— "Unconscious, but OK, I think."

— "We'll make do"

She needed to shake out of it. Taking a deep breath, Frances rolled cautiously aside with a wince. Her ribs protested, tender, but she could breathe still. Her left arm and elbow refused to obey, the muscles seized from their previous landing on the stargate steps. Needless to say, that the cold didn't help with their mobility. The dull ache, though, reassured her a little; nothing seemed to be broken. Not that she'd even broken anything, mind you. Sheer luck or flexibility, Frances had no idea, but even after joining Interpol she'd been lucky enough to never break or tear anything despite many, many harsh landings and awkward fights. Opening her eyes, she met a pair of disapproving brown ones glazed with pain. O'Neill was lying on the ground, less than a meter way, with Carter hovering over his leg.

— "There, sleeping beauty. Time for your tongue lashing"

Frances send the Colonel a confused look before he started berating her.

— "What did you think you were doing!"

This time, she sat on the ground to check that all her limbs were indeed, accounted for.

— "You said we don't leave anybody behind," she responded in a flat voice.

O'Neill's eyes budged out of his face, and he struggled to sit, swatting Carter's protest away with an angry gesture. His finger pointed at her accusingly.

— "We don't, you do! You're just a girl, for God's sake. If you expose yourself, it'll be my job to retrieve you, understood?"

Frances's anger rose, and she had to bit her lip to refrain from yelling back at the man. She just wanted to help! Had she made a difference, or put herself in needless danger? A question none would ever have the answer to. Fortunately, Carter decided to take the matter into her hands.

— "Try to stay put Sir, I think your leg's broken."

— "No, my leg's definitely broken. This is bad news, 'cause unless they've redecorated the gate room I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

Frances snickered at that; O'Neill's dark humour quite agreed with her. She'd just have to wait until he wasn't pissed at her anymore to start trading jokes.

— "Daniel must have misdialled"

Frances turned around to take in the very empty cavern around them, voicing her inner thoughts.

— "Where are they?"

Her remark went unnoticed.

— "Misdialled? You mean this place is a wrong number? Ah, for crying out loud. Yes, where is he then?"

— "He's not here, Sir, neither is Teal'c."

As O'Neill tried using the radio, Frances couldn't help but feel bad for the Captain who'd been awake for a long time on her own. And this 'sir' name calling would be getting old very soon. The young woman stood, leaving Colonel and Captain for a little while to take a look around. The wormhole had dug a set of huge holes into ice walls, preventing them from being crushed to death upon impact. Good, even with Murphy's law upon their backs, there still was a guardian angel working like a madman. As Carter had said, ice planet or middle age ice age. Truth be told, even if the situation seemed a bit bleak, she'd never seen such a beautiful setting. Frances loved ice, it made her feel like adorning her skates. And the Captain's brain worked very, very fast.

— "We're in trouble, Sir," came her lovely voice from their spot on the ground.

— "Oh, nonsense. We'll just dial home and straighten all this out. Where's the DHD?"

The Colonel's tone was playful, a little too eager for her taste though. Especially since Carter mentioned that the Home dialling device was nowhere to be found. That sucked.

— "Oh, so, uh, we're in trouble."

Frances walked back to them, decided to sort out their priorities. First, tending to the Colonel's broken leg. Second, making a possible makeshift camp while Carter looked around for the DHD; she was the only one able to get them out of this mess. As she shared her strategy with the air force officers, Carter looked mildly impressed that she hadn't panicked yet.

— "It makes sense. We'll splint your leg sir, then I'll find the DHD."

It was easier said than done, and both women were insulted profusely after trying to tend for the Colonel's leg. After yelling his lungs out at Carter as she reset the bone, O'Neill eventually turned to her.

— "Didn't you say you were studying biology? Can't you do it?"

The Captain seemed as contrite as she was saddened, and Frances shook her head, impressed by the Colonel's memory. He seemed to love playing dumb, but retained an awful lot of information. And there was no way in hell she could reset a broken bone.

— "Biology, as in dissecting insects and plants. Sorry, but I've never done that before, and I don't think I could do a better job than the Captain"

O'Neill rolled his eyes with a wince.

— "No offence, but no. No dissecting me"

— "I can help stabilise your leg, it will be easier for the Captain to splint it properly."

His dark eyes seemed to dance a moment before he gestured to the two women.

— "Go ahead, have fun," he quipped.

Frances followed Carter's instructions closely, hands shaking from the cold, and from the fear of damaging the Colonel any further. Especially since he was quite vocal about it. She had no qualms admitting that his anger made her stomach queasy; she'd rather face a gun to the head than to be shouted at by the Colonel. At last, the Captain distracted him, coaxing him into telling a story of his black Ops days. Mesmerised, Frances could only clench her jaw as he recounted his 9 days crawling in the Iraki desert with a broken bone. Her arms shook from the strain to keep his leg upright, but it seemed to help as Carter only had to wrap bandages around the splint without moving his leg around. The mention of Sara, O'Neill's wife, left a sour taste in her mouth. As he and Carter argued a little more, she couldn't help but mull on the pain and regret that had flashed through his eyes. Raw, heart wrenching pain that had nothing to do with his leg. Frances wondered if he was still married, her brain going overdrive until his land landed on her arm.

— "Sorry for yelling at you. And thank you for the help."

Frances's gaze roamed over his now splinted leg.

— "Never mind. I get it. It'd be cranky too in your situation."

— "I'm still right, though."

His playful jab called the ghost of a smile on her lips, then he turned to Carter.

— "Good. Now help me up"

— "Ah, I don't think you should move."

— "Probably not, but my butt's freezing to the ground. Come on"

There was no saying no to a commanding officer, and Carter complied. Once propped up, the Colonel seemed a little more at ease than lying down at the mercy of two makeshift nurses. He took a good look around, and sent a playful smile to the Captain.

— "Ah. Ah, a little paint, a coupla windows, maybe a fireplace in the corner, it'll be just like home."

The Captain left his side to wander around on her own, but Frances' gaze was fixed on the same corridor the Colonel had been gazing at.

— "We might be able to climb out of here. You might, anyway," he added, turning to the young woman beside him.

Frances considered the slope for a moment, wondering if she could use knives to stabilise her ascension. There were rocks embedded in the ice here and there; it would provide good places to put her feet on the way up. Yes, she might very well be able to do it. How difficult could it be compared to climbing trees?

— "Yes, I think I could. Maybe I could find some help?"

— "No, I mean, you and Carter."

Silence. Big, heavy silence that told her she'd not misunderstood his meaning, the one where both women saved their asses and left him here. Their eyes met, dark brown to light brown, and Frances couldn't find anything to retort to his unspoken command. She could only nod awkwardly until Carter's enthusiastic cry shook them out of their battle of wills.

— "Colonel, I've found it!"

— "Found what?"

— "The DHD, I figure the glacial flow must have separated the Stargate from its Dial Home Device, but it looks like it might be intact."

Frances almost deflated with relief. The idea of leaving one of their teammates behind to freeze to death wasn't one she enjoyed, even if she didn't know them well. With Mulder and Scully, she'd learnt the strong bond of comradeship, and the importance to stick together no matter what. It had saved their lives many times. Beside her, the Colonel spotted Carter on top of a big block of ice, and leaned over with a wince.

— "Ah, God. Oh. Can we dig it out?"

— "Yes"

It didn't take long until the three of them were chopping at the ice, the repetitive moves sending warmth through Frances' frozen body. That's it, the ultimate way to stay alive in this ice planet. Dancing! Chuckling at her own stupid joke, Frances couldn't help but frown as O'Neill clutched his chest, his face pained. At once, the Captain stopped moving.

— "What's wrong with your chest?" she asked.

— "I think I cracked a rib too."

This time, she looked exasperated.

— "Why didn't you say something?"

— "I was afraid you'd try to put a splint on it. I'll be fine"

And just like that, they started working anew, both Frances and Carter stealing glances at the Colonel to ensure he was fit enough to continue. For sure, he sometimes swayed on his feet, but she wasn't courageous enough to order him on the ground. Grumbling that, next time, she would wear a Gore-Tex undershirt, Frances contemplated her frozen fingers as they hacked at the huge lock of ice that contained their ticket home. In the meantime, she observed the banter between the Captain and the Colonel. Not quite friendly, sometimes bordering on annoying – from both sides – by linked already.

Not unlike Mulder and Scully had been. She hoped Mulder wasn't having a fit back there; every time she was in danger, he rather lost his cool. Something to do with the responsibility of throwing her into all sorts of messes. Frances, for one, wondered if she hadn't taken the honorary place of his little sister somewhere along the way. Truth be told, she rather saw him like a kind older brother who dragged her into all sorts of nonsense and dangerous playground. The typical older sibling. But she knew he would blame himself for bringing her there in the first place. She hoped, for herself, for her parents, and for him, that they would manage to get this blasted DHD to work. They needed to remain positive, to think clearly, because Carter was right. There was no way a search party could find them if they stuck on probabilities. But Daniel Jackson knew about the stargate, right? He was the one who figured it out in the first place from what she gathered. Surely he would be able to narrow the search down. For the moment, though, Carter seemed on the verge of losing it as her voice rose against her commanding officer. And the Colonel had had enough, hence his stern reply to her lesson of probabilities.

— "Not if they look here first."

Frances refrained from rolling her eyes. Was it wishful thinking, or a real belief in God that pushed O'Neill to dismiss the Captain's concerns? Should she intervene, or would O'Neill bite her head off?

— "Even if all SG teams started searching right now, the mathematical probability of them even…"

— "Captain!"

There it was, the breaking point. Fortunately, O'Neill didn't vent his anger and resumed chipping the ice.

— "I think too much," Carter sighed.

Frances couldn't help but feel bad for her. She was responsible for getting them home, since none of them had the theoretical knowledge to help her. What a burden! Angry moves projected the ice all around the Captain, so much that Frances decided to talk to her. At least, to keep a little conversation flowing.

— "You're right. Random searches would take ages, and I guess Dr Jackson knows that. Don't you think he will be able to narrow the search down?"

Carter send her an exasperated look.

— "Assuming he is on earth, yes he might."

Frances sighed. Right. On the other hand, after such a malfunction, it was a miracle they had made it in the first place.

— "Well, honestly, I think we are quite luck to be alive and not disintegrated into space."

O'Neill, seemingly spent, sent her a startled look and waved at her with his knife.

— "See Carter, positive thinking."

— "Yeah. And I positively think you should get some rest, sir."

The Colonel grumbled at that, but agreed to settle on the ground to melt some ice. Carter and Frances exchanged a worried glance; he'd not even fought against their coddling. Yet, there was not much they could do, so the girls resumed working. It took hours, at least, to get the circular dialling device a little more visible. By then, Frances's feet felt so numb she wondered if she still had ten toes.

— "Soups on," interrupted the Colonel from the ground.

Frances sighed in relief. She was spent, and frozen. But Carter wasn't ready to give up yet; she swore that woman ate uranium at breakfast.

— "Just a little more, we're almost through."

— "Come on now, you don't want it to get cold."

His teasing voice reminded her of a mother about to deal punishment on his children if they didn't comply. Just the right amount of cynicism to counteract Carter's disbelief.

— "I didn't know you could cook."

— "I can't," he deadpanned. "But my melted ice is to die for."

This time, Frances laughed. The Colonel's ability to make light of a dire situation earned him a lot of respect from the young woman, especially since her thoughts were barreling on depressing now. Probably the cold, Frances had very little padding to keep her insulated. Would she weep, after a few kids, about the silhouette she had back then that made her rage against her frozen buttocks?

— "Thank you. Sir, maybe I should have another look at you."

— "No, I'm fine. Eat."

There was a dismissal. Firm, but not ungentle, with a little warning underlying. Frances settled on the ground next to the Colonel and nodded her thanks as the proffered bowl of soup. Her nose scrunched slightly at the smell.

— "What is this?" she asked, trying to assess the pieces of whatever that swam in an undefined liquid.

O'Neill munched on his own dinner as the Captain responded.

— "MRE. Chicken probably"

— "Uh? Aimarey?"

— "It stands for "Meal Ready to Eat". Daniel always complains it tastes like chicken, even when it is not. Come on, don't be shy. There aren't lots of chickens running around here"

Frances stared down at her food, her heart balancing between the searing hunger and a highly disgusted feeling.

— "No wonder if they know they will end up like THAT."

Her answer caused the Colonel to chuckle, then wince at his bruised rib. A smile had bloomed on the Captain's lips as well, before it was wiped out by her running brain.

— "I've been thinking about how the Stargate might have malfunctioned."

Frances braced for impact. Carter's thinking tended to blow her mind, and exhaustion was slowly, but surely seeping down her bones.

— "Yeah?"

— "Well, we don't totally understand how it works, but the theory we have so far is that the gate creates an artificial wormhole, that somehow transfers an energised matter stream in one direction along an extra-dimensional conduit. I think the matter stream between Stargates got redirected, kind of like a lightning bolt jumping from one point to another in mid-strike. Now, I figure it had to have been the attack on P4A-771. The gate itself was probably struck by enough energy during the firefight to influence the direction of the matter stream before we reached the other side."

A slight pause, just the time to regain her breath before the Captain eyed her superior suspiciously.

— "Colonel?"

— "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening."

Then he turned to Frances with a weary expression.

— "Were you?"

The young woman was still processing the onslaught of information thrown at her, and her voice was quiet as she tried to understand what the Captain meant.

— "Yeah, unfortunately. My brain aches but … what was your conclusion? That we are close to earth?"

Blue eyes widened, enthusiasm regaining the Captain as she jumped to her feet.

— "Exactly! What I'm saying is, we must have emerged through a Stargate relatively close to Earth in the gate network, somewhere between P4A-771 and Earth. Now, if the SG rescue teams reach the same conclusion, it could significantly reduce their search."

— "That's good news," said the Colonel tiredly.

— "Yeah."

But the good news didn't last long as, at last, the damn DHD was uncovered. Frances observed with a hawk's eyes as the Captain explained how the addresses worked, and what she thought were their point of origin. Fascinated, the young woman watched the buttons lightening up as the Captain dialled. The disappointment was akin to hitting a wall full force; the gate never lightened up. It did not even tremble. As Carter refused to lose hope and already considered how to fix it, another disheartening problem arose. Blood splattered over the ice, crimson droplets over the immaculate snow. Eyes widening, Frances realised that the Colonel might have a punctured lung. They were utterly, royally screwed!


	6. Chapter 6 - Out of the blue

**_Hey. It's been a long, long time. My brain tends to scatter, not unlike an electron beam heheh. But thos story will not be abandoned. It might just be really slow at building up. Cheers to all, and don't hesitate to leave a review._**

O'Neill was slumbering, overcome with pain medication that Sam provided. There wasn't much left; Stargate missions were not supposed to last for so long, but still. The Captain knew how much to give, at which interval, and how to administer the morphine doses. For an astrophysicist, she sure knew much about medicine. Frances drank in everything the blond woman had to say. A crash course of sorts. And while they worked at digging up the DHD, Carter spluttered knowledge here and there. Apparently, the Captain used her as the famous "plastic duck". Meaning that, by explaining her theories, even if Frances only understand half of it, helped her sort her thoughts. Too bad it had not led to any significant breakthrough.

Frances was frozen to the core, but so very impressed by the dedication and skill of the woman that faced her. Facing impossible odds, she kept going like a Duracell bunny. For her part, the young woman felt exhaustion creeping in fast. The cold numbed her senses, and she wondered how Carter's brain kept going. And what a brain, damn! The bits of knowledge she let fly, here and there, were enough for Frances to understand that she was barely scratching the surface. Underneath this blond skull, behind those wide blue eyes rested a well of knowledge. Not unlike Daniel Jackson, who apparently spoke 23 languages. Frances sighed, wiggling her fingers as they started going numb. Right. Only 19 more to learn, and she'd be able to give Dr Jackson a run for his money.

_In the meantime, SGC_

At the SGC, a frantic Mulder had been pacing for so long that he threatened to dig a trench in the command room. Frances was his charge! He was the one who promised her parents to keep her safe whenever she joined them on missions. And now, he faced the impossible task to tell them that he had lost her. Probably dead, somewhere, or disintegrated. But they would never know what had happened to their daughter.

His inside wrenched, the little food he'd managed to scarf down threatening to come back up. Mulder inhaled slowly, trying to reign his beating heart. Within their time in the X-Files, they'd come close pretty often to being eaten, killed, maimed or worse. They had always defeated the odds … but still. Never had they been separated like this. Well, only once, in Forks, but this Carlisle guy had found Frances and brought her back fast enough.

Two days now, and with every second that passed Frances' chances of survival dimmed. Dr Jackson and Teal'c knew it just as well, worried sick for their two teammates. Hopefully, Colonel O'Neill, Captain Carter and Frances were in together. Already, the remaining SG teams had visited two thirds of the planets that lay in the path between their original course and earth. To no avail. And despite his distress, Mulder was impressed by the team's quick thinking. Two more planets to visit, and that would be it. Needless to say, he didn't have much hope.

The door opened, and Scully strode in. The FBI agent didn't think twice, and engulfed her in a mighty hug. She was just as worried as he was – her light blue eyes simmered with unspoken grief - but kept her cool to keep him sane. The best partner ever. And even if it might seem unprofessional, he could only relish in the comfort of her arms around his tall frame. Just a moment to relax, and hope that everything would be all right.

A slight tremor, barely discernible, caused his head to jerk up. It was the third now. A little earthquake. A replica, maybe? His eyes lifted, finding a set of blue ones that seemed deep in thought. Then, Daniel Jackson sprang to his feet.

Three attempts now at powering the Stargate, all of them failing at the last moment. Despite Captain Carter's best efforts, the damn gate refused to power up.

Hope, this shiny ball of energy that had doused them after the Captain had managed to fix the DHD, was flying away fast. A bitter disappointment that Frances felt seeping through her bones. Despair was just around the corner.

Biting her tongue, the frozen woman considered the scene once more. Wide expense of ice, so clear, so beautiful… It was a fantastic place, reminding her of the "Ice sea" cave in the French Alps. A mighty glacier, majestuous and deadly. One that would probably engulf their dead bodies in its icy clutches for eternity.

Sharking her head aside, Frances sat beside the Colonel. Taking care of another's health made her feel better. It kept her sane. So she removed the last Mars bar she had saved for dire circumstances, and offered a piece to the Colonel with a smile.

— "Sugar is everybody's best friend, and it will help with the cold", she said.

Calling the Captain, the Colonel took the severed bar with a grateful nod. Soon, the three of them were munching on the piece of milk proteins, caramel and chocolate. Amazing, how a simple taste of candy could lift one's spirit. For a second or so. While they munched, Frances took to asking questions about explosives, dragging both the Captain and the Colonel into long explanations that distracted the three of them. To her shame, she knew nothing about bombs, and C4, and any material the army used. Seeing that she followed the basics of chemical reactions, Captain Carter went into further details of power and exothermic scales. Frances nodded, taking it all in. Her formidable long term memory was storing every single detail.

There was a world of thing she didn't know out there. Military, linguistic, astrophysics, culture, history. So much to learn… And while the explanations kept pouring out of the Captain's mouth, with occasional quips and grunts from Colonel O'Neill – he was quite a fire cracker – Frances could only taste the irony of being in a school where they dubbed them "the elite". So much ignorance, at eighteen years old, was not unwarranted. But ignoring your own ignorance was a sin, especially when your head started to inflate because you could align a few mathematical series without breaking a sweat. Now, she was starting to question her choice of career.

Facing your own death, on an ice planet, could do that to someone. And while Frances inwardly cringed about it all, she outwardly laughed at the image that popped in her mind. Carter had been explaining how C4 could be shaped into practically anything like children play dough. Frances' chuckle interrupted her, causing a suspicious look. Feeling Carter's outrage flaring at being laughed at, she came clean.

— "So, if someone carved the C4 into a bomb shape, what would happen?"

Blond eyebrows lifted above of a set clear blue eyes, and Colonel O'Neill couldn't help but snigger on the ground.

— "She got you there," he said.

And even if the smile was strained on his face, his brown eyes twinkled with amusement. Frances laughed at her own stupidity.

— "Sorry, Captain. My brain is fried."

The apology cleared the air between the two women, and Carter cracked a smile before standing up.

— "Let's go and make this thing work."

Frances nodded. There wasn't anything else to do that try, and try again.

But try as they might, failure rained upon them like a vengeful angel. So when O'Neill yelled at them to come and keep him warm in his sleep, Carter eventually gave in and started cursing. Asking for the heavens to send Mac Gyver, and please stop messing around.

By the time Frances and Carter both cuddled around Colonel O'Neill, the mood was grim. Very, very grim. The Captain dosed the Colonel with the last shot of morphine, and while he started slumbering, the blond Captain huddled in a ball by his side.

— "It's my sidearm I swear," he mumbled.

And despite the sombre mood, Frances burst out of laugher. Puns and jokes about sex were legion in her school.

— "As if, with this cold!" she quipped.

Both officers smiled tiredly, and it was the last sentence spoken before they all fell into uneasy slumber. The ground was cold, the air was cold, and the light, already dim, was becoming scarce. Frances frowned, right before sleep overcame her. A glance at her watch, 1:30 am in The States, sent her mind into fits of wonders. Funny, how the sun seemed synchronised with theirs even on an alien planet. At least, they'd not been ambushed but polar bears of strange clawed creatures.

She was grateful enough. Would they ever make it? The chances seemed so scarce, and the young lady wondered why she felt optimistic about their fate. This little voice, in the back of her skull, told her not to worry. That eventually things would clear up, and be all right. Being of a pessimistic nature, she wondered if she was going crazy. Perhaps it was the presence by her side; her awe about the SG1 team that kept her spirits up. Perhaps she was in denial. In that case, reality would bite her soon enough in the ass.

_6 hours later_

So there it was. Reality. Biting so hard in Frances ass that she didn't feel it anymore. Wait. Probably because she was sitting on a pile of ice that approached -20 °C. Or worse. She longed for the light to change, for the sun to blaze, but all they got was a slighter brighter light than the day before. There had been no real night either which meant they probably were close to a pole.

The metallic bowl was warm in her hands as she slowly fed some broth to the Colonel. Damn, he must be frozen since he couldn't even move. Poor man. This, added to the pain for which they only had codeine tablets left, and it makes a bad day. Night. Or whatever. His whimpers and curses whenever he tried changing position were less heartfelt; he was losing the battle.

Despite a DHD charged up, the gate still refused to work. And while the astrophysicist tried for the umpteenth time to make that blasted wormhole appear, Frances rubbed the Colonel's hands and feet to try to get some warmth in his limbs. His face was pale, so incredibly white even in the blueish environment.

— "Damnit !", Carter yelled, banging her first on the DHD machine.

Frances stood, walking to the young woman whose blue eyes were circled with fatigue.

— "Here, Captain. Take my place for a moment, and share the broth. I'll try to climb up there."

Samantha Carter blinked.

— "Your are crazy."

— "This is what the Colonel asked me to do, but I don't think you're too keen on leaving him down there."

One quick glance at the slumbering man, slouched against the DHD pile of ice, told her as much. Captain Carter's resolved features showed the strength within.

— "No way. We don't leave anyone behind," she whispered.

Frances nodded once. Her team, Mulder and Scully, would have done the same. This was what a team was, right? Tight knitted in adversity.

— "Yeah, I gathered that. So I'll see if there is anything up there. Technology, civilisation. OK?"

A thoughtful look passed over the Captain's exhausted features.

— "Are you sure you can climb up there? It's dangerous"

— "No, I'm not. But I'm a good climber, so…"

Seemingly satisfied, the young woman gathered the broth in her frozen hands and sighed in contentment. A gleam of admiration shone in her eyes, and she dipped her head slightly.

— "Thank you, Frances"

— "I'll radio, when I'm up there."

— "Good"

And while the Captain sank beside her commanding officer, her shoulders slumped in defeat, Frances started her trek to the surface. The fact that light managed to shine through the ice told her the caves were not so deep. The young woman walked soundlessly, careful where her combat boots trod in the slippery ground. Rocks and ice patches alike littered her pathway, and she marked some places by carving crosses to prevent from getting lost. Then she found it, a shaft, at roughly 45 degrees angle, that showed the whitish light of the sun. It wouldn't be easy, with all that stupid glistening ice, but the irregularities allowed her to find some spots to hurl herself up.

Frances inhaled sharply, then started to climb. Without proper equipment, her feet and gloves slid so easily. Fortunately, the ice was so cold that she could sometimes lower herself onto it and use her body heat to stick the cloth to the surface. Several times, it provided enough leverage for her to find a good grip. Her muscles protested from the strain, her fingers slowly warming up only to yell at her for the mistreatment. Her knife sank into the ice like an ice ax as she pulled herself with all her might. Several times, she cut the skin on some asperities, but she couldn't let go. This would mean … no. She couldn't let go.

So Frances climbed, foot by foot, pushing her body to its very limits until she couldn't even close her hands anymore and had to rely on her aching legs. Fortunately, she had reached the top. One last push from her long legs and she was rolling in the snow, shuddering at the contact. Damn, she'd never felt so cold in her entire life; worse than the snow storm she had faced with her brothers in the alps.

From there, it took only ten minutes to walk to the top of a hill. Despite the icy air, she was surprised to see that her heart rate behaved; the atmosphere probably contained the same oxygen rate. The sun shone through glass clouds, but it did little to warm her up as it diffracted. Around her, only white and greys. Squinting her eyes against the harsh light, Frances turned and turned, 360 degrees. Snow dunes, icy hills and a few rocks. Nothing more. No civilisation, no water, nothing in the sky. She couldn't even assess a curvature; the horizon was plain white from icy dust.

Releasing a heavy breath, Frances slumped on the ground. There would be no solution from the outside world. In the last resort, she tried to change the frequency of her radio to pick up anything that might travel across the snowy hills of death.

Nothing. Not a fucking inch of life.

Defeated, Frances contacted Captain Carter. Willing her voice not to waver, she quelled the tears that threatened to overflow.

— "Frances! What's your status?"

There was hope in the woman's voice. Hope she was going to crush in one swift blow.

— "I'm all the way up. There's… nothing. There's ice as far as I can see, and before you ask, I have a very good eyesight."

There, perhaps a little bit of O'Neill's infamous humour wouldn't hurt, right? Frances almost heard the other woman's defeated sigh when she radioed back.

— "All right. Get back down there. There's soup ready"

— "Give me 10 minutes"

And as the wind picked up, its icy clutches coaxing her into death, Frances retreated to the shaft she had climbed with so much difficulty. Her bleeding hands refused to hold, and she actually slid down as carefully as she could. The descent went a little out of control, but her body was so numb that the many bumps didn't even register in her brain. It would hurt like hell if she ever survived.

And so, while the second day closed off on the wandering trio, they fell into slumber without a word of encouragement, huddled against each other. Colonel O'Neill lay between the ladies, like a patriarch would have as the end of the world descended upon them. Darkness claimed Frances fast, exhaustion from the trek shutting up her reeling mind.

Warmth enveloped her like a blanket, lights shifted behind her closed eyelids and familiar voices told her to hold on. For a long time, Frances shifted in and out of consciousness, wondering why noises were so deafening – a helicopter ? – and things so confusing. Her mind couldn't seem to reconcile, fuzzy thoughts mingling with sensations that prevented her from resting properly.

Then darkness came, restful, warm and inviting.

Then it was the steady beep of a heart monitor, and the gentle touch on her hand from a friend's.

When Frances eventually awoke, she found both Fox Mulder and Dana Scully by her bedside. Both conversing in low voices, eyes set upon each other. The young woman smiled, trying to play 'unconscious girl' for a moment more. They never let their guard down whenever she was around, even though the mutual attraction between them burnt brightly. There was no ignoring the loaded looks between them when you knew how to silently communicate with both agents. And they'd done a lot of silent communicating in the past.

Now… things were going to change. Scully had decided to continue working in Washington for the unclassified files, and Mulder was joining the program. Was it the end of the road ? The team was disbanded after years of joint efforts to fulfil Mulder's quest. And now, he'd found what he was looking for. Had the SGC asked him about his abducted sister ? Asked commitment from him ?

— "Frances?"

— "Damn, how did you know I was awake ?"

Frances' voice was raspy, her lips busted by the cold. Fortunately, there was no intubation needed, meaning she didn't have to handle the burns and discomfort of having a tube shoved down her throat.

— "Heart monitor", Scully said.

— "Right"

Scully chuckled then, handing her a glass of water than she downed avidly.

— "Bottom's up !"

Flashing a grin at Mulder, she met his dancing greenish eyes. How she had stared at those eyes, their color changing with the light from hazel to pure blue, to know whether she should bolt and run or stand her ground. They had been a good team through the time of her internship and their collaboration with Interpol. But now…

Frances sighed. Damn, what a headache ! Perhaps now was time to shed the mantle. After all, her new boarding school was more demanding than high school, and she wouldn't be allowed slacking in her work. Still… she didn't want to say goodbye.

Frances was a warded a few days in the infirmary to recover. After a day or so, she begged the chief doctor, Janet Fraiser, to let her out. Since she had sustained no grave wound, she was allowed to get in Mulder's room during the day. The higher bunk bed was her best friend while the older man ran to and fro, so excited that he couldn't' sit down. Mulder was starting an acclimation program to bring him up to speed with SGC requirements. Then, at the end of October if all went well, he'd become part of SG11.

Scully left the day after, her gaze a little lost, probably wondering how things were going to be now. A heartfelt hug later, both Frances and Mulder retreated to the base, lost in their musings. As the elevator took them to the fortieth something level, the tall man turned to Frances.

— "So, what now ?", he asked.

Frances shrugged.

— "I'm leaving in ten days. In the meantime, doctor Jackson had offered to teach me a few dead languages."

— "Really ?"

— "Yeah, the guy is just too nice for his own good."

Mulder nodded thoughtfully.

— "And highly intelligent. If he had not found the solution…"

Frances frowned; fox Mulder could hardly been dubbed dumb, but Captain Carter and Daniel Jackson were definitely off chart. Still… understanding that, all this time, they had been stranded on earth by a second stargate and trying to dial their own planet. That took a trait of genius. And Frances didn't really want to imagine what would have happened if Dr Jackson had missed this particular clue. No one would have found their frozen bodies in Antarctica.

— "Let's not go there"

Mulder sighed, then reached for the little lady, pulling her into a side hug.

— "You're right. 'What ifs' are not good for health anyway."

Frances returned the hug before letting go; this was a military base after all. Her thoughts wandered to the conversation she'd had with the linguist in a corridor after a chance meeting.

— "Dr Jackson said he wanted to thank me for taking good care of Jack during out little misadventure. And I might have shown interest in one of the papers he had scattered on the ground"

Mulder laughed at that. What a peculiar man.

— "Have you visited the Colonel ?", he eventually asked.

— "I didn't dare", she said with a sheepish smile.

The man intimidated her, and Mulder bit his lip to prevent from smiling. Sometimes, Frances reverted to the shy young woman he knew well. There was such duality in her; it only made things more interesting.

— "Go. I've heard he's bored to death in the infirmary"

— "I can sympathise"

— "Aside from his teammates, I don't think his subordinates would dare visiting him much. But you are not part of the military, so you can screw formality"

Frances laughed at that, and when the elevator dinged, she wondered how Fox Mulder, rebel at heart and breaker of every single rule in the FBI, would accommodate the strict chain of command of the air force. Crossing her fingers, she hoped fervently he would discover the truth about his sister's abduction through the stargate program. Maybe even find her, and get to be the older sibling he'd missed out to be in his youth.


	7. Chapter 7 - Barbecue

**_Hey people, it's been a little while. So Frances is out of Antarctica, and discovering who, exactly, SG1 is and finds out that those larger-than-life legends are humans._**

Thus, Frances ended up in the infirmary this very afternoon with a set of chocolates bought in Colorado Springs. She exited, an hour afterwards, with a stunned look on her face.

O'Neill had been strange … callous, as usual, and still pissed about that mission that should never have happened … but still. He had conveyed his thanks, and a discreet praise given she'd managed to keep her head. And invited her for a barbecue, at his place, in a week's time. No arguments, no buts, Daniel or Sam will pick you up on the way out and that's it.

— "We need to celebrate being alive."

Frances nodded her understanding, and left in a haze. The week that followed had her buried under languages she didn't even know existed, research in dusty books, and the knowledge that she would never see the world the same way again. She'd learnt about Goa'ulds, and their impersonation of the Egyptian pantheon. And whenever her brain refused to function, Daniel took her to Sam's lab to have a look at a strange metal found on another planet. One she'd never seen before. Hours flew by so fast that she sometimes fell asleep on Dr Jackson's couch, intend on deciphering an old piece of parchment that made no sense about King Arthur and his knights.

The worst of it … she knew that Dr Jackson had given her the easiest assignment. Old English. For she didn't read hieroglyphs, neither Hebrew, neither … everything else. Of Mulder, she saw his face in mornings and evening for meals. And when both of them grew really tired about the mess, they drove to town to consider how, in three weeks, the world had drastically changed.

— "So watcha drinking, kid? Beer?"

Frances cringed. Ugh, beer! She hated the bitterness even more than rainy days.

— "Ah … no, thank you."

— "Tequila? Rhum ?"

The slight twinkle in Jack's dark eyes told her he was teasing now, and he wasn't ready to let go. His eyebrows lifted as he bent to her.

— "Coke?"

His presence left Frances slightly flustered. Damn, he could be intimidating. How would SG1 judge her for not drinking anything remotely adult? Well, at least, she wasn't addicted to soda or caffeine. So she gave him a meek smile.

— "No, thanks. I do enjoy my water, it is healthier."

The Colonel scoffed then, gesturing to the table littered with bottles of beer and cheap soda laden with additives.

— "Come on, don't be boring. What's your poison?"

Frances didn't enjoy the taste of alcohol, and thus, only drank when the booze was worth it. Really worth it. Now … that would sound very posh. But still, the Colonel was pushing, hence her clipped answer.

— "Burgundy or alsacian wine. I am partial to that. Blame my father. So unless you have a Gevrey Chambertin close or a Gewürztraminer, I'll stick to water."

This time, Jack's eyebrows climbed on his forehead. A slow whistle passed his lips, and Frances braced for impact. But instead of dubbing her snobbish, the Colonel chose humour instead.

— "Do you even know how to write that?"

Frances nodded; she'd seen the label on the bottle a thousand times.

— "No wine, no cheese and no bread, are you sure you're French?"

The young woman chuckled; he wasn't the first one to make fun of her on this one. Across the table, Daniel Jackson was already engrossed in the conversation; food was part of cultures after all.

— "Well, my father says so. He hates the British, especially when playing rugby, but he's from burgundy so I have some doubts."

— "Uh?"

Jack's reaction caused Daniel to smile. He had to admit that the young woman was quite witted, and just sarcastic enough to handle Jack's incessant probing.

— "Of course, you are referring to the Hundred Years War."

As the Colonel exchanged a clueless look with Carter, Teal'c sat down beside Daniel to address the young woman.

— "I am unfamiliar with this part of your history," he stated, genuinely curious.

Before Frances could open her mouth, Jack intervened.

— "Heck, me too. Rugby, a Hundred Years War in medieval times, burgundy wine! This is a world away. Gimme hockey, American football and Whisky and that's more like it."

— "You must have something in common…", Sam butted in. "How about baseball? Fishing? Ice skating?"

— "Ice Skating?" Frances squeaked.

A pair of wide hazel eyes turned to Jack, envy written all across Frances' face. Daniel mused that, right now, he could see the five-year-old girl surfacing. What a cute child she might have been … ten years ago. Damn, he was getting old.

— "Definitely," Jack responded, dead serious.

A lopsided smile lifted the corner of the archaeologist's mouth. Those two were more similar than he expected.

— "Is there an ice rink here?"

— "Yes. If you're interested, we can hit it someday."

— "Hell yes! That's the only fun thing I got to keep with my crazy schedule."

Samantha muttered.

— "Talk about ours…"

Discussion reverted to the usual banter where everything they said in the backyard was coded enough so that no neighbour could hear anything compromising. It was a difficult exercise, but one to which they usually excelled. Well, except for Daniel, who always had trouble hiding things from the world. He was the weakest link of SG1 when it came to security … but hell, he made up for it with other talents! And as Teal'c started raining questions about the hundred-year war, French culture and the history of earth, Frances took them in stride. She didn't seem fazed by Teal'c weirdness, of his, sometimes, peculiar view over military matters. His judgements were sometimes harsh, and he could see in the girl's eyes that she considered her answers thoroughly. Adaptable, and curious.

— "Do you have a computer, T?"

The nickname was adapted from Jack's instructions to as not to sell the alien's identity in the neighbourhood. After mister T, it could work well enough, especially since the man was this huge black giant. A dark eyebrow lifted, intrigued.

— "No."

— "Perhaps you could ask for one. If you can get the hang of the internet, you will be able to satisfy your curiosity. The net is rather infinite."

— "I do not understand how this thread works," the Jaffa answered.

Frances could hear Daniel chuckle in a corner, but he didn't come forth to help so she settled beside Teal'c.

— "It is like an endless supply of books. Anyone can write articles about anything. The only issue is that since anyone can write, there are also false information but not as much as one could think."

— "But if you can find false information, how do you know which one is real?"

Frances' nose scrunched comically.

— "Good point. I guess you just have to see if the writer seems sane, and quotes his sources…"

Daniel Jackson chooses this moment to butt in.

— "There have been mistakes printed in books for ages as well. Science renews itself, and evolves. Knowledge is ever changing."

— "The only constant thing is change," Frances concluded, thinking about a quote she'd heard.

Teal'c considered both archaeologist and young woman, trying to assess whether a computer could help him grasp Earth's history better. Then decided it would.

— "Perhaps I could ask for a machine. In my home pl … village, knowledge was mostly spread by the master and his jaffas. It took me ages, and Master Bra'tac to realise that some of it was false."

— "You didn't have any other way to check," Daniel soothingly said.

— "It is untrue, Daniel Jackson. I just didn't bother looking for it."

Frances cocked her head aside; Teal'c seemed so regretful of having been manipulated by false Gods that her chest ached for him. As if he could have escaped their hold somehow. It was no wonder earth's society unsettled him, with its freedom so ingrained that it sometimes went too far. Biting her lip, she tried to make him see things differently.

— "In the past, contradicting eminent powers was dangerous to one's life. Only the most convinced people dared going that way"

Seeing where she was going, Daniel added for good measure.

— "In the dark ages, some healers were burnt for curing people and others tortured for believing in other gods. You might find similar patterns than in your original culture there"

Teal'c eventually bowed his head regally.

— "I am grateful for your insight. Maybe I will learn how to use the computer machine."

— "I have three days left. Maybe I could show you the basics if Dr Jackson can spare me."

The archaeologist sighed.

— "You really need to call me Daniel. Dr Jackson was my father"

— "Someday, we all step up," she quipped back.

The banter was interrupted by the giant who gave Frances a meaningful glance, leaving Daniel a little bereft as to her meaning.

— "If you are willing, you have my thanks," the Jaffa said.

Frances gave him a "no problem" shrug. She couldn't fathom how much of a foreigner Teal'c must feel in this strange complex. And being stuck underground probably didn't help either. Jack suddenly popped up, a fresh new beer in hand and a platter of sizzling sausages that he dropped on the table.

— "So, Space monkey. Did she agree to the internship?"

Daniel gave him his most innocent look and Frances smiles at the nickname.

— "I, uh…"

— "Internship?"

Shaken out of his musings, Daniel turned to her.

— "Well, you were good with languages and other cultures and…"

— "Rocks?" Jack supplied.

Both Frances and Daniel corrected him at the same time.

— "Artifacts"

Samantha laughed at his. Yes, those two could definitely get along, and she had to admit that having Frances with them in Antartica had made things easier. Somehow lessened the guilt of not caring for O'Neill herself while she worked on the damn DHD. It could be nice to see her again once in a while. For the moment, though, the young woman seemed rather taken aback by the proposal.

— "There will be no going through until you have passed all the levels of basic training."

Frances nodded, dumbfounded that they might even consider letting her back in the summer.

— "All right. I don't mind. Can I, uh, think about it?"

— "No, it's do or die".

Frances froze, eyeing the Colonel warily. His very serious expression cracked as he grinned.

— "Of course, you can think about it. And now, food. I'm starving."

Unbeknownst to Frances, the captain and colonel had packed the table with all sorts of funny food while they were engrossed in their discussion. SG1 settled around the round table, and people started piling food in their respective plates. The sausages looked juicy and perfectly cooked, and it made Frances' mouth water. But the first thing that landed on her plate to compliment the meat was the fresh lettuce. Large green leaves of delicious salad. Her eyes lit up as she started cutting the sausage, rolling the pieces in salad leaves.

— "Mmmmmm," was her moan as she tasted the delicious mix. "Your sausages are to die for."

— "I hope not," Jack quipped back, his brown eyes sparkling.

Yeah, right. Perhaps no speaking of dying.

— "No, you're right. But with the salad it is just perfect. I worship lettuce"

— "Is it customary to worship food in your culture?"

Frances turned to Teal'c, surprised by the seriousness of his question. She would have to adapt; Teal'c wasn't from a culture where humour and cynism were much used.

— "Ice cream, yes!" Jack quipped.

Daniel sighed, giving Colonel O'Neill an exasperated look. The bond between them seemed to run much further than mere colleagues; she would have to dig into that.

— "Jack… No, they are jesting, T"

A lifted eyebrow was the only response from the giant, so Frances endeavored to elaborate.

— "My father has a garden and grows the best salads and tomatoes. Since I am areligious, I decided to worship salad instead. As a joke"

The tall man nodded once, meaning he accepted her explanation and Frances went back to her delicious sausage.

— "Do you make good ones?" Jack enquired.

— "Not yet, I am in a horrible boarding school where food is yuck. I don't have much time to cook."

The colonel's fork clanged on his plate, his eyes darkening.

— "You're so young," he sighed.

There was so much pain buried there; she couldn't make heads or tails of it. What had she said that could possibly send the Colonel in such a sombre mood?

— "I know," she responded, suddenly worried.

A few seconds passed before Jack O'Neill eventually shed the mantle of sadness from his shoulders. And just like that, he was the cheery, dark humoured man once more. But now, she could see the lingering darkness in his eyes; he would never be able to hide it from her again.

— "OK, not so young if you can understand it. So you don't cook at all?"

— "Does marzipan counts?"

— "You bet it does!"

Frances smiled, glad she had managed to convince Dr Jackson to drag her to a grocery store before they came in. Fetching the bag, she unloaded the ground almonds, brown sugar, eggs and almond extract and started working. As she worked – there was nothing easier that make marzipan – Jack exclaimed:

— "What, you got Daniel out before the time? Wow. I'll ask for a raise if you can do it again."

Captain Carter chuckled beside him, settling with another beer as both officers drank together. Daniel grumbled something before launching in an explanation of the origins of Marzipan – roaming through Asian, Italian and German cultures – while Teal'c observed the proceedings in silence. Jack's only comment, at this point, was that if she learnt how to cook, she would be invited to many barbecues.

**_So, this is the end of the first arc. I hope you enjoyed it. Well get back to SG1 in summer 2003, after Frances had her second 'Keeper of Time' travel listed in the story 'Innocence's journey'. Cheers to you all and please leave a little comment to let me know what you think._**


End file.
